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Welcome to the Boston Jazz Scene web site--the place to find out what happened, what is happening, and what is coming in jazz and other improvised music in Boston and surrounding communities. The most recent post is listed below this information. Words listed below the Topics heading to the right refer to information you can find here about jazz and other improvised music, the arts in general, food, and travel in and near Boston.

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Friday, January 6, 2012

Jazz Journal – 2011


December 2011
Guitarist Jeff Platz brought another gang of musical friends with him to the Lily Pad 12/4 for challenging improvised adventures. The instrumentation (although no doubt unplanned in detail) brought up some unusual and engaging pairings. For example, the saxes of Charlie Kohlhase and Andy Voelker, the percussion work of Luther Gray and John McLellan, the potentially “chordal” guitar/piano sonics of Jeff Platz and James Rohr, the double bass tandem of Jef Charland and Kit Demos, and the electronics of James and Kit. Nevertheless, even though some pairing occurred briefly at times, the highlights were individual solo work and the shifting combinations of group support and improvisations that seemed to avoid quite successfully any reference to obvious pairings. And yet, I had no sense that anyone was trying to avoid the application of paired instruments. It just tended to work that way because it sounded right to the musicians. Not surprisingly, it sounded pretty good to those of us in the audience as well...
Sometimes gut feelings turn out to be on the mark. It certainly was the case when I predicted that the 2/8 reunion at the Outpost would be “even better than the first” encounter. Although improvised duos almost inevitably turn out to be musical conversations, during most of the evening that was not the case for the percussion work of Laurence Cook and Luther Gray. The music of the first set required even greater performance ears than a high level musical conversation. What they did had little to do with back-and-forth commentary. It was for the most part a single four-limbed musical machine, with both musicians stoking the fire, checking the tracks, throwing in an occasional comment about the weather, monitoring the gauges--but always, relentlessly moving the music forward with steam billowing and the amazing scenery whizzing past. There was a second set, too. At first Feldmanesque in its “simple” clarity and then onto other terrain of surprises. If I didn’t know better, I would suggest that on their next gig it will be impossible for these guys to top their 12/8 performance. But I do know better than to suggest that...
As recently as the November edition of this Journal I mentioned the negative impact on live jazz performances of practices carried out by PROs and the musicians union. Of course, there is no question that jazz musicians lack financial support for everything from basic pay to life maintenance benefits. It would be a good thing to solve that ongoing problem. Unfortunately, strong-arming club owners is not likely to help the situation. Once again the New York Times has published a story on such practices. However, this time in “Jazz Musicians Start a Pension Push” (12/12) writer James McKinley, Jr. mentions that AFM Local 802’s efforts on behalf of pensions for jazz musicians may not be in the best interests of the musicians. That in itself is a refreshing take on PROs and the union in the Times. The union is trying to pressure the half dozen major jazz clubs in New York to set aside a specific amount of money for each band member on each gig for a pension fund for New York-based jazz musicians. One can attempt to discover whether or not jazz club owners are getting rich off the tourist trade (a primary source of income for those clubs). Certainly the major clubs are too expensive for most non-tourist jazz fans, except as a rare, special event. However, regardless of the economic status of club owners today, the idea of pushing owners for pension funds sounds like an idea that might have worked in the 1950s when clubs were not dying. So, even if the idea has some merit (if it ever did), then the time has passed for it to have a prayer. Consider what would happen if the “strike” is a success. In order to have the same level of profit (assuming there is any), the clubs would have to either increase ticket prices or reduce costs. Ticket prices already are exorbitant. Let’s see a show of hands. How many people can think of the most likely way a jazz club would reduce its costs? Very good. Yes. So long to the last of the hat-in-hand big bands. You want Blakey-esque sextets and quintets? Fuggetaboudit. You like trios? Maybe. You love solo piano? You’re in luck. You can expect celebrations of the solo jazz piano tradition and the art of the solo guitar and “innovations on the solo tuba” and so forth. So far there seems to be no thought that musicians might give a percentage of their take from each gig to the union. Then the union could put that money in an interest-bearing account for a pension fund. Something like that. But such a plan would mean extra bookkeeping work for the union rather than for the clubs. Is there any wonder that almost all jazz musicians are performing in non-union clubs? Yes, they are making little or no money in those venues. But at least they are not insulted with road-to-Hell intentions...
It was only one set of music 12/9 at the Lily Pad, but that’s all it took to make something clear about Jason Robinson’s Outnumbered: the group has worked together enough during the past couple years that they can jump into the fire together and dance as a unit. They continue to work with material created by jazz icons and band members. Of course, the signature of the band is what these musicians--Jason plus Charlie Kohlhase, Josh Rosen, Bruno Råberg, and Curt Newton--do with the material. At the same time one cannot avoid praise for the steady hand of the leader. To a great extent it is the context he creates that results in such fine solos all around. Encore...
Bob Brookmeyer died 12/15. I remember him first on that terrific Gerry Mulligan album recorded in 1954 in Paris (re-issued as an expanded double CD on BMG/Victor 68211& 68212, Gerry Mulligan in Paris, Vol. 1 and Vol. 2). At the time of the recording he was unknown to the French audience and unknown to me, but his valve trombone work killed me. And it continued to do so throughout the years. Lucky students at the New England Conservatory studied with the giant whose talents as a big band arranger were mostly underrated. But the musicians knew. He was held in high regard as a jazz musician by his peers, the ones who count. Thank you for the wonderful memories, Mr. Brookmeyer...
These musicians--Jorrit Dijkstra, Pandelis Karayorgis, Jacob William, and Eric Rosenthal--show up and make music. It’s that simple. They keep trying different charts, different combinations of ideas. But, as they demonstrated 12/4 at the Outpost, it always comes out the same--superb, challenging music. Conceptually that is such a difficult (impossible?) thing to do consistently. If you took any one of these remarkable artists and put him in an ensemble of randomly selected band mates, the results would be unpredictable. But these men--in combination--are can’t miss musicians. And they are right here in town for us lucky fans...
After a gap of too many years in my experience Paul Broadnax and Peter Kontrimas returned to Bullfinchs 12/11, and a packed house welcomed them. And it wasn’t even an evening gig. The duo got an invitation to do a Sunday brunch, and there was a scramble for tables. Not long after I was seated, the restaurant hostess was sending people to the bar for food in lieu of table seating. Only one or two couples decided to walk. This throng that showed up to listen to quality jazz is not a minor matter, particularly right now when SRO crowds are a rarity. And certainly Paul and Peter appreciated the response. Over the years they have seen their share of empty seats. Fortunately for them (and for jazz in general) there still are people with taste in music who listen...
Al Vega died 12/3 at age 90. The longevity is remarkable enough in itself. Think about it. When Al Vega was born a 14-year-old Johnny Hodges was soloing at the Black and White Club and performing at society teas with Benny Waters. And Al Vega grew up to play piano for seven decades with everyone from Dizzy Gillespie to Dick Johnson to Dave Zox. His biography, The Al Vega Story, written by Northeastern University’s Leonard Brown, was published this year. Al Vega became something of a Boston icon, but it is worth noting that word of his passing appeared in the pages of newspapers as geographically dispersed as San Francisco’s Chronicle and England’s Daily Mirror...
I dropped in to catch the music 12/16 at the Oak Bar of the Fairmont Copley Plaza, and when Bob Baughman showed up on time, he was ready to fly. People from all over the room bombarded him with requests, and he responded in kind (all kinds of “kind”). He took their requests and turned them into much more than a robotic piano roll, twisting the lines into different angles, shifting tempos, rethinking the obvious. And always including thoughtful solos. For example, at one point he turned a ragtime request into a type of signature drunken “Entertainer” with missed notes and fumbled runs à la Jonathan and Darlene. Another time it was a careful, poignant version of “Lush Life.” My personal favorite was a kitchen sink version of “In Walked Bud” that traveled all over the place and back, a comfortable ending to an adventurous journey-tribute to Monk. I had to leave before Bob’s evening was over, and it was good to see people lined up after 10:30 waiting to get into the bar. As I noted in the November Journal, it would be a shame to see what may well be Boston’s finest bar close. Where else in the Boston area can one find such a beautiful, accommodating social environment with engaging (and, if you listen, challenging) music? Maybe we’ll all stay lucky and the Oak Bar will return. In the mean time, here’s the first page of the Oak Bar menu to give you some idea of what a classic place that room is and how significant its musical history is:


It was a nice audience, a very enthusiastic audience at the Lily Pad 12/21. Something we need at more performances of post-Ayler music. I think the public connection with the Pandelis Karayorgis Trio--Pandelis Karayorgis, Jef Charland, and Luther Gray--to a certain extent is the result of the fact that the trio in some significant ways has evolved out of the trios of Herbie Nichols, Thelonious Monk, Dodo Marmarosa, and other ground-breakers of that period. Listeners can hear those roots. Yes, the group uses composed heads and even an occasional Monk tune, but it is more than that. It is the “new music” spirit of those pioneers channeled through these very much alive musicians. Almost all of the material they pursue is composed by members of the band. So the compositions are new, at least two of which still were untitled on 12/21. But it wasn’t simply a matter of the fact that the heads were new. In fact, it was the heads that most obviously called to mind the pioneers. But--most significantly--it was what happened after the heads were played that most dramatically connected the trio to its inspirations. Just as Nichols, Monk, and Marmarosa shocked and entranced their audiences with “where they took the music,” so it was for this trio. The composed/arranged music functionally opened the door to the remarkable sounds that followed. And we lucky witnesses were there to see and hear the extraordinary NOW...
Sam Rivers died 12/26 at age 88. He came to Boston after World War II to study on the GI Bill and stayed here until 1964 when he took his music to New York. Before he left he turned heads as a soloist in Herb Pomeroy’s big band and in collaborations with Tony Williams, among other highly-regarded local collaborators. Unlike most musicians of his generation and earlier, Rivers believed that strong academic/conservatory background in theory and composition was an advantage for a jazz musician. He was an advertisement for that perspective in his compelling solos and chord-based (minus the chord changes) compositions. His duo sets with Dave Holland at Lulu White’s on 3/9/80 remain among the most memorable of my experience. Sam Rivers’ career after he moved to New York is well documented elsewhere. Fine recorded documentation is available of his sessions with Holland (also sometimes in a trio with Barry Altshul) and on Tony Williams’ remarkable Spring album. Rivers also is well known for his large ensemble writing/conducting, particularly the New York-based Rivbea Orchestra and (for the past couple decades) the Florida-based incarnation of the orchestra. His low-key personality probably resulted in his receiving a smaller amount of press than lesser lights. Nevertheless, it is a sure bet that there is a bunch of excited young guns discovering/rediscovering “Beatrice” right now...
Every year I hope against hope. It’s not a big deal. In some ways it’s terrific. My wife and I sit in front of the fire and drink a toast to the New Year. It’s a great annual tradition. But always we take the frail chance that NPR’s Toast of the Nation will have some really good live jazz to offer. Things started off pretty well. I’m not a huge Julian Lage fan. (It’s just a subset of the music that I’m not into). But he and his band mates came to play. So, even though it’s not my cup of tea, it was done really well. Applause. Then things took a turn for the worse. If you think my use of the phrase “my cup of tea” was bad, it was nothing compared to clichés and boring sounds that followed. Even the part of the broadcast that tends to be a “sure thing” (i.e., replays of gigs recorded during the year) generally failed miserably. Finally, we got two songs into a set by a trio of “jazz singers,” looked at each other, killed the radio, and said goodnight to the fire. On the plus side was the best replay from 2011, a tribute to the late Billy Taylor by Toshiko Akiyoshi, Geri Allen, Christian Sands, Cyrus Chestnut, and Danilo Perez. Too bad they were not available to carry us into 2012 with a live gig...
I guess it’s a great way to close out 2011. We’re in a situation right now in which post-Ayler jazz in Boston--both qualitatively and quantitatively--is operating at its highest level ever, and yet gallery audiences for this music are miniscule. And so there is something quite positive about showing up at the Outpost 12/23 for the Taylor Ho Bynum gig and discovering that there was no way I would be able to see the performance. There were a couple folks standing outside the gallery and about eight or ten people squeezed into the foyer leading into the performance room. Although I got to the gig five minutes before it was scheduled to start, these people--including Garrison Fewell, Chicagoan Dave Rempis, and other fine musicians--were shut out as well. I did some calculating. The music would be so good that few people catching the first set would want to leave. That meant most of the people standing in the foyer or outside the building would not be able to get into the gig. Because there were at least ten people ahead of me in that mix, I knew I’d never get into the performance space. Something like this happened at Hot Clube de Portugal in Lisbon in August 2000 when The Joe Morris Quartet was performing. I caught them the previous night because I had gotten there early enough. But on 8/11/00 I found myself stuck in the “back room” where the sound was OK. But OK sound is what I get from my better-than-average stereo system at home. I go to gigs because I want something better than a Hi-Fi experience. So I spent my time in the Portuguese club having fine conversations with some European friends. Although there were plenty of fine friends to talk with at the Outpost 12/23, talk (which would have carried into the gallery space) was out of the question. I left. I have heard good things about the performance of Taylor Ho Bynum and friends from those who were able to witness it. I’m not surprised that it was a good gig. Now if Taylor would be nice enough to share some of his audience with Bostonians who perform at the Outpost on a regular basis, that would be a great way to kick off 2012...
November 2011

Dead slow ballads have a difficult time making it off the stage and into the audience in a fairly noisy bar or restaurant. And so it was when the brand new Eric Hofbauer Quartet attempted such a thing in the middle of the first set 11/2 at Johnny D’s. But give them applause for courageous programming. And, more important, look for these guys--Eric Hofbauer, Pandelis Karayorgis, Jacob William, and Luther Gray--in the future. The quartet brings together different ideas from four extraordinarily distinctive and strong musical personalities. And the results should be heard by anyone who is yearning for a challenging sonic journey. That music certainly could have been more than satisfying enough for the evening. But Eric unleashed the Infrared Band Sextet in the second set of the evening. Eric has done this before, taking his superb Infrared Band--Eric plus Kelly Roberge, Sean Farias, and Miki Matsuki--and adding Jerry Sabatini and Joel Yennoir to the mix. There is no question that the addition of brass to the lineup brings an ensemble balance to the group that is part of an instrumental tradition going back to the earliest days of jazz. And who can argue with that? However, quite independent of instrumentation and tradition are the more important factors of who (and what) the musicians are. These six people have a ball playing music together. It’s not merely that they have a great time playing music. Fortunately for us fans, musicians who love to play are plentiful around here. One of the characteristics of the sextet is that the joy of performance is articulated as an explicitly interdependent process. So it’s not just a quartet with two guests. This is a band. A heck of a band...

Paul Motian (1931-2011) grew up in Rhode Island, but developed his percussion work primarily outside New England. He died 11/22 in New York. If you are reading this and do not know anything about Paul Motian, you are a little late to the party--and probably you are connected to the wrong web site. If you were a jazz fan and lived in the Boston area during the 1980s and early 1990s, you were lucky for a variety of reasons, one of which was that Paul Motian played in Cambridge at various clubs with a good deal of frequency. He brought with him such notables as Bill Frisell, Joe Lovano, Mick Goodrick, George Garzone, and other remarkable musicians to create soaring, compelling--and thoroughly personal--music. He is irreplaceable...

In previous Journal entries I have mentioned the fine--but financially fragile--music at the Oak Bar (August 2011) and the negative impact of the performing rights organizations (PRO-i.e., BMI and ASCAP) and the Musicians Union on live jazz in clubs (e.g., August 2010). As Alex Beam tells us (without reference to PROs or the Union) in an 11/13 Boston Globe article, we probably are coming to the end of the line for live piano jazz at Fairmont Copley’s Oak Bar. He goes so far as to suggest that piano jazz bars in general in Boston are dead. That may not be quite true. The last I heard, for example, nonagenarian Al Vega still is holding down the piano spot at Lucky’s Lounge. But the disappearance of piano bars (and bars with other forms of small-group jazz) is a genuine phenomenon resulting from a variety of causes. And Union minimums and ASCAP/BMI fees are not helping the situation. I dropped into the Oak Bar 11/18 where Jane Potter was doing a fine solo stint, turning both chestnuts and also-rans into gems. On a break we discussed the future of the Oak Bar, and that future does not look bright. The music is fine. The place was packed most of the time while I was there (even including scattered applause after Jane’s interpretations). And the staff in the room seems genuinely excited about the live music in the bar. No doubt, for reasons not apparent on the surface, upper hotel management seems to be leaning in the direction of getting rid of the bar and expanding the Oak Room Restaurant into the bar area. That would be a shame. The bar will be shut down starting in January for renovations/modifications, and the room will not be open again until April. Whether the results turn out to be a nicer bar (although that seems hardly possible) or an expanded restaurant is not public knowledge. And perhaps no final decision has been made. If you care about the future of classic piano bars in Boston, there are a couple things you can do. First, show up after 8 p.m. on Thursday through Saturday (while you still can) before the end of December to catch Jane Potter or Bob Baughman at the piano. You can’t go wrong with either of them. The second thing you can do is let Fairmont Copley Plaza management know that the great, classic piano bar should be saved and supported--for the sake of the music and for the sake of the great Copley Plaza tradition. Apparently Mr. Paul Tormey is the primary decision-maker. You can let him know what your view is in writing. His address is:

  • Mr. Paul Tormey
  • Regional Vice President and General Manager
  • The Fairmont Copley Plaza
  • 138 Saint James Avenue
  • Boston, MA 02116

The corporate fascination with Jazz at Lincoln Center continues. I continue to be amazed at the reaction to the place. As I mentioned in the May 2010 Journal, some folks in San Francisco want to emulate the Jazz at Lincoln Center model. And now, according to J.C. McKinley, Jr. in the 11/16 New York Times (page C1), Jazz at Lincoln Center is pushing its product to other cities. Given the standard “mission” rhetoric of the JLC folks, one might assume that the best way to spread the gospel of jazz and to reach the apparent target of black America and the man on the street would be to bring jazz to “Main Street” or the inner city. With that perspective in mind one might speculate where JLC would open its next club. Some targets seem reasonable, such as somewhere between Playhouse Square and University Circle on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland or even the Roxbury section of Boston. And the music performed by top jazz artists would be available at low cost (or even for free!). I’m just joking of course. Whatever clubs that do appear will be modeled on the Dizzy one in New York. In other words, potential audience members without deep pockets need not apply. Therefore, the first club in the planned JLC series of venues will be housed in a one billion dollar hotel in Doha, Qatar. It is these kinds of ventures that make the free performances for Bostonians offered by organizations such as the Boston Arts Festival and jazz outfits such as the Makanda Project (e.g., the anticipated 12/3 gig) shine that much more brightly. I hope the JLC leadership is kind enough to keep Boston outside its radar. We still have live music in clubs here, and it would be good if we could keep it that way...

Steve Lantner and Luther Gray sat at their instruments 11/22 at the Outpost and began to play. It was that simple. No fanfare. Nothing theatrical. Simply music--disarming in its lack of extraneous sounds or ideas. It cut to the heart of sonic art at its most beautiful. No, the music was not minimalist (at least most of the time it wasn’t), but in its own way it achieved what Morton Feldman pursued. One of the things that struck me is their ears. All the best musicians listen carefully, but what Steve and Luther were doing somehow transcended even that. I was so taken by it all that at the gig I mentioned to them that I wished some young music students were present to witness the power of really hearing. What Steve and Luther did was not merely employ remarkable listening as a resource for creating remarkable music. More significant, they managed to make the listening process an integral part of the audience’s listening experience. I know that sounds mechanical, even programmatic. But it wasn’t at all like that. It was the elevation of audience experience one notch higher...
An additional note: There was an odd bonus to the 11/22 gig. On a break I went to the men’s room. To my shock and wonder I discovered not merely soap but (for the first time in my experience) also toilet paper and paper towels. Encore. Encore....


October 2011

October was one of those months. The gremlins attacked my car twice, forcing me to leave it in the hands of mechanics for a couple two-day stretches. Then there was the early snow storm. Among the results is the fact that I missed some music that I was looking forward to witnessing. So, if the snow and gremlins had not showed up, I might have more to say here about jazz and other improvised music in the Boston area in October. Fortunately I did have a chance to catch some fine musicians in full flight.

What happens when you take the Fringe and replace fire-breathing George Garzone with three of the top horns in town--Jeff Galindo, Jim Hobbs, and Charlie Kohlhase? You get a slightly and pleasantly off-kilter version of the Fringe. Bassist John Lockwood and percussionist Bob Gullotti function almost as one person. Give them a free context to perform in together, and they will bolster, dance, and push whoever is with them as if it’s lights-out Fringe time. As a result we got something like the JeffJimCharinge Quintet 10/16 at Pickman Hall. Jeff named it the Jeff Galindo Contingent, and he decided to make that group a free jazz ensemble. And free floating it was. As much fun as all that was, I found myself thinking that the next time Jeff brings these guys together, I’d love to see what they could do with his charts. I found my brain saying, “Gee, even tonight, if he would begin the theme to ‘East Broadway Rundown,’ everyone in the band immediately would know where he was going. Even that mere snippet of a theme would have given us a taste of this band employing conventional structure. Well, that didn’t happen. But something like it did. Near the end of the extended single set, Jeff worked his way into a beautiful version (after all, Jeff is a killer trombone player) of Ellington’s “In a Sentimental Mood,” suggesting song form structural thinking. Eventually all members of the band picked up the cue and carried the tune to conclusion and into another theme. These final gestures of the evening suggest perhaps the use of charts on the next gig. I’d like to check that one out, because this is a heck of a band...

I noted the passing of Milton Babbitt in the February entry of this Journal. Fortunately other people remember him as well, as in the case of the afternoon tribute to him 10/9 at Pierce Hall at NEC. I do not plan to cover the event here, other than to say that it was a fine celebration featuring comments by colleagues and performances of a couple works by Babbitt’s favorite composers as well as mostly his own works as performed by everyone from talented youngsters to seasoned professionals. When I returned home I continued to think about him, his music, and his ideas. I thought once again about his most famous essay. It is not his best essay by any stretch. But it is his most notorious, both because it upset some composers and music fans and because the editor of a popular hi-fi magazine changed the title of the essay to something much more pugnacious than Babbitt ever would have intended, "Who Cares if You Listen?" I decided to return to the essay and weigh it once more. I bring up the subject not because I wish to analyze its contents here. Rather I mention it because it is thoughtful and has relevance to the state of creative composed music today and--most significant here--both mainstream jazz and particularly post-Ayler music. The predicament Babbitt discusses will sound familiar to anyone tackling new sounds in new directions. I believe it is important to say that I do not share Babbitt’s views about certain historical developments and several of his conclusions about the nature and future of music. In the same way it is possible that anyone who chooses to read the essay may not fall in love with every word. But I do believe the essay is worth reading for anyone who cares about jazz and other improvised music and the future of music in general. For, even if you disagree with what he says, his arguments will either change your mind or cause you to ponder and more carefully bolster your own take on things. The original title of the essay (before the editors of High Fidelity changed it) was "The Composer as Specialist." The essay has since been re-published in several anthologies, perhaps most notably The Collected Essays of Milton Babbitt (Princeton University Press, 2003), and it is available online in several places, including a site operated by a composer who disagrees with the essay rather strenuously. I believe the composer’s rejoinder is confused. Of course, that does not mean Babbitt’s arguments are flawless. For anyone who is interested, a more up-to-date Babbitt take on the state of serious music can be found in his 1989 essay, “On Having Been and Still Being an American Composer." That essay also is found in The Collected Essays of Milton Babbitt and online at this site. For those who would like to hear Babbitt read, “On Having Been and Still Being an American Composer," the essay is available on the Koch CD, Soli e duettini (CD 3-7335-2), and in three parts at a Youtube site. The advantage of the latter two options (aside from hearing Babbitt speak) is that he introduces the essay by making reference to the original essay, “The Composer as Specialist.” Enjoy...

In spite of more immigration problems (e.g., see comments about the Evan Parker gig in the September Journal), Trio BraamDeJoodeVatcher is on tour in the U.S and they made it OK to the Lily Pad 10/10 for two sets of excellent music. Aside from some of the occasional physically engaging antics of the drummer, the group eschews much of the typical Dutch humor in favor of pushing the music ahead without “baggage” of any kind. The musicians--Michiel Braam, Wilbert DeJoode, and Michael Vatcher--have worked together going back a couple decades, and it shows. They work with compositions (spending a good deal of time delving into Michiel Braam’s Q series), but the level of communication is high enough that it almost is irrelevant to think about where the writing ends and the improvisation begins. Years ago the group originally got together to focus on the music of Monk. So it is not surprising how much the material recalls the writing of Duke Ellington, a great influence on Monk. They did include Monk’s “Ugly Beauty” in the set, after which the pianist pointed out that the work is Monk’s only waltz. That sounded correct to me as I tried to recall similar works. I’m a Monk fanatic, but I do not have his catalog of works memorized. Fortunately, the closest thing to a human Monk catalog (to disregard his creative brilliance for a minute) was in the audience; so I asked Pandelis Karayorgis if the Braam statement was true. He said that, as far as he could recall (and that’s good enough for me) it was true. Then he thought for a second and added, “‘Carolina Moon’ is similar, but it is in 6.” For the second set the trio brought local favorite (but also with Hollander roots) Jorrit Dijkstra to the stage. Jorrit had much to do with bringing the trio to Boston, and I’m sure everyone in attendance was thankful for his efforts. The shift from three to four in the second set was more than merely a matter of adding a number or a horn. The texture and thinking of the group shifted with the change. There were works from both the trio and from the alto saxophonist, and the mix affected the thinking (I believe), and the harder edge of the alto sound caused band members to shift and dance in a celebration of different angles and textures in the music. So, in some sense the two sets presented very different music. But always the reaching and the excellence were at the core of the music. On a break I talked with Wilbert and Michael about their itinerary. They said that they had to catch a 6 o’clock plane in the morning to make a noontime gig at the Chicago Cultural Center. They would be in Chicago for two gigs. Mention of the Chicago Cultural Center caused me to bring up the name of Michael Orlove, the man who has been responsible for so many wonderful performance events in Chicago. Wilbert stated that the cultural program is in trouble and that Michael has been told not to book any gigs in 2012. The news is disturbing. Readers of this Journal may remember the problems that Michael Orlove and the Department of Cultural Affairs in Chicago ran into last year. (See the December 2010 Journal for basic information.) And here we are almost a year later with more cultural upheaval in Chicago. It is pretty remarkable when you think about it. Here is a person, Michael Orlove, whose constructive impact on the arts in Chicago is so profound that (even though he carries out a responsibility that has almost no public visibility) a musician from the Netherlands and a jazz journalist from Boston are talking about him and his plight while on a break in a gallery on the East Coast...

Where in the world are you going to find a “conventional” piano trio this good? I use the term “conventional” because superficially the group looks and operates something like what you’d expect that age-old configuration to look and operate like. But that’s where the similarity ends. I was sitting there thinking that if Thelonious Monk were in the audience when the band played their off-the-wall but oh so on-the-money versions of Monk compositions, the composer would have flipped out with joy. Each person in the trio brings such an idiosyncratic and profound musical personality to live performance that such an image is not far fetched. And, in a sense, it is irrelevant what Monk might think of those interpretations of his works. The bulk of what they--Pandelis Karayorgis, Jef Charland, and Luther Gray--brought to the Lily Pad 11/19 had perhaps little to do with Monk (except in terms of quality). This is a “conventional” piano trio that is downright scary. For example, at one point near the end of the evening Jef was asked to try with the trio a new work that he’d never seen before. I don’t think there’s any such thing as a simple Pandelis Karayorgis composition. As it turned out, this little ditty was an impossibly complex foray into time changes and “awkward” lines. Jef nailed it. He killed it. And Pandelis wrote that brilliant “mess.” And Luther? Somehow--I don’t know how--he always knows where everything is. And did I mention that this is one of the most innovative drummers of his generation? Pandelis? If he lived in Japan--where they value the arts--he would be a national treasure. And the three of them tackle these works (some by “outsiders” such as Monk and most by trio members) as if it is just another day at the office. How else could you play this music? Unless, of course, you are not this exceptional...

When John Kordalewski initiated the Makanda Project there were more than four hundred Makanda Ken McIntyre compositions that never had been performed anywhere. As John told the audience at the 10/23 concert at MIT’s Killian Hall, these unplayed works existed in various forms from somewhat conventional lead sheets to scribbled music in notebooks (sometimes as many as three compositions per page). The transformation of these works into exciting arrangements by John Kordalewski is a remarkable ongoing challenge for him and the band. One gets the feeling sometimes that John’s enthusiasm about the prospect of revealing all the unperformed works in Makanda Project concerts carries his efforts a bit too far. By that I mean sometimes it seems that he’s producing and rehearsing charts faster than the band can digest them. These musicians on the 10/23 gig-- Diane Richardson, Kathy Olson, Kurtis Rivers, Lance Bryant, Sean Berry, Arni Cheatham, Jerry Sabatini, Bill Lowe, John Lockwood, and Yoron Israel--are among the best jazz musicians in the Boston area, but there are limits to what one can expect from them. The McIntyre compositions generally are tricky, and John Kordalewski’s arrangements are challenging. Rough edges are to be expected. On the other hand, when the band has sufficient rehearsal time, both the ensemble playing and the solos soar. For example, on “New World” Lance Bryant offered one of the best solos of the evening no doubt because of the sure-footedness of the support around him but also because the saxophonist went into that solo without the weight of subsequent ensemble arrangement difficulties on his shoulders. Because “New World” is a ballad, one might suppose that the slower tempo made the chart easier to work with. Possibly. But the closer, “Struttin’,” a work as challenging as any on the program, was slam-dunked by the ensemble and filled with terrific solos. Of some significance is the fact that the night before the Killian Hall concert Craig Harris led a band in Manhattan performing previously recorded McIntyre material. I did not catch that event, but apparently it was very successful. I imagine that event was inspired by Harris’ previous work with the Makanda Project. It would be great for someone with pockets to bring these two bands together for a wonderful evening of “old and new” Makanda Ken McIntyre works...

I’m guessing that many readers of this Journal are fans of the Brilliant Corners blog. It’s filled with think pieces and celebrates the music and musicians in fine fashion. Because the evolving history of jazz in the Boston area is one of the primary subjects of this Boston Jazz Scene site and perhaps some people check out the site mostly for history, I point out in particular “An Untold Boston Jazz Story” by Steve Provizer posted 10/26 at the Brilliant Corners blog. Steve writes about his fond memories as a student at the short-lived Jack's Drum Shop School of Music. Nice stuff...
URL: http://brilliantcornersabostonjazzblog.blogspot.com/2011/10/untold-boston-jazz-story-by-steve.html

It was billed as the Steve Lantner Quartet, but the trio of Steve Lantner, Joe Morris, and Luther Gray showed up instead. And maybe that’s a good thing. I sometimes think--because of “4 is better than 3” thinking or something like that--the Steve Lantner Trio is underappreciated. But, as one audience member after the first set 10/30 at the Outpost said approvingly, “Boy, Steve’s Trio and Quartet are really different.” True. Most obviously there are the factors of time (chronology) and space (layers of sonic articulation). While the music moves forward in time, the potential for sonic busy-ness increases as the number of performing musicians increases. Therefore, creative decisions involving three people are significantly different from those of four. In other words, the timbre of the saxophone is not the only (or necessarily even the most significant) difference between the Quartet and the Trio. In fact, I would suggest that in this case (although many factors account for the differences) it is the musical personalities of the band members and the nature of the personal interactions that make the Steve Lantner Quartet and the Steve Lantner Trio so different from each other. On the other hand, there are significant similarities between the two groups (including overlapping personnel). But no factor links these two distinctive bands more than the extraordinary quality of the music...


September 2011

Tatsuya Nakatani claims he arrived in the U.S. seventeen years ago not knowing a single word of English. I remember those first half dozen years or so when he lived in the Boston area and performed frequently. I remember that his English was less than perfect, but (maybe because his music was so eloquent) I do not remember him ever being completely inarticulate. But it does give one pause. I’m sure the language barrier has presented itself to many people who arrive here. It is difficult to imagine what it must be like to be unable to communicate in everyday language in an alien land. But Tatsuya did just that, and all of us are richer for it. As he describes his situation today, “I have a home in Easton, Pennsylvania, but I live on the road.” Right now he is in the middle of an East Coast tour. He told me that between his 9/10 gig at the Outpost until Christmas he has seventy-five gigs. A true road warrior. All of those gigs are solo gigs, and so it was for the first set at the Outpost. He took advantage of a vast array of gongs and other percussion instruments, exploring even more possibilities than ever as he roamed the room, filling it with sound. Even during those first years here Tatsuya was a master of percussion and a complete percussionist (a killer polka drummer, for example). Today his arsenal is even larger. One can imagine that some of the young percussionists in the SRO house were taking mental notes, stealing what they could. No matter. They could never steal the important stuff, the music. As Tatsuya explained, for the second set of the evening he decided to step away from his normal modus operandi (i.e., exclusively solo performance). He told us that there are times when he wanted to have ten or twelve arms to take advantage of the array of instruments at his disposal. And so he decided to create the Nakatani Gong Orchestra to execute such an idea. The ten additional arms of the NGO were Kevin Frenette, Forbes Graham, Matt Samolis (having performed with Bowed Metal Music the previous evening), Todd Brunel, and Joe Monteiro. Of that quintet only Matt had performed with Tatsuya during the percussionist’s first years here. Not surprisingly, it was a fruitful meeting of improvisors. All of them brought more than merely exceptional musical talent, and the results were gorgeous. Tatsuya played a little bit but mostly conducted, using hand signals to indicate instrumentation, duration, and dynamics but leaving much space for the musicians to make critical decisions of detail. It may not have been a typical Nakatani gig, but it is one that should be repeated. It was quite a joy to witness two sides of Tatsuya Nakatani. At the end of the evening he thanked the musicians by name to deserved applause. He saved Kevin’s name for last, pointing out that the gig would not have been possible without Kevin’s efforts. Once again Kevin Frenette demonstrated that he is one of those special people who is both a superb musician and a man who makes things happen. And thanks to Tatsuya and the entire NGO for making a special evening of music happen...

Supposedly sometime near the end of this month a restaurant named Storyville will open at 90 Exeter Street. For those of you with good memories and/or gray hair, you will remember that 90 Exeter is the address of the first incarnation of the famous jazz club known as Storyville. The re-use of the name is no coincidence. Mr. Brian Lesser, who’s opening the new restaurant, is using the name to honor the original club. It’s a nice gesture, but will the restaurant complete the salute by offering jazz to its patrons? Although Mr. Lesser suggests that the place might present music once per week, there is no mention of jazz. If you are hoping for jazz at the new Storyville, I suggest that you not hold your breath...

The ninth Boston Arts Festival presented a wide variety of visual and performance art at Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park, the performance art taking place throughout the week end on two separate stages. The highlight for jazz fans 9/11 was the wonderful set of music offered by the Makanda Project--John Kordalewski, Diane Richardson, Charlie Kohlhase, Kurtis Rivers, Lance Bryant, Sean Berry, Jerry Sabatini, Bill Lowe, Robert Stringer, John Lockwood, and Yoron Israel. The ensemble justifiably is praised for its twofold mission: the presentation of unrecorded/unperformed music composed by Makanda Ken McIntyre and the performance of that music for the citizens of Makanda Ken McIntyre’s hometown. In carrying out that dual mission 9/11 the band demonstrated the most compelling aspect of the mission, the performance of the music itself. This is no tired ghost band with “memorized” charts and solos. The charts by John Kordalewski are new and inspiring. And the soloists are among Boston’s finest improvisors. Each of them obviously loves this music and what John has done with it. So the next time the band plays in town, you can show up to re-discover Makanda Ken McIntyre or to discover music you never heard before. In any case, you will walk away filled with the joy created by the folks who play this music...

The 2011 Kennedy Center Honors were announced 9/7, and among the honorees is jazz giant Sonny Rollins. At age 81 Rollins is in the twilight of his career. As has been noted in previous Journal entries, various prestigious award agencies have discovered the tenor genius during recent years. But perhaps none of the awards carries more weight than the Kennedy Center Honors. The only question that remains is: Why are they giving him the award? Of course, no one reading this Journal needs an explanation as to why Sonny Rollins should receive such an honor. No. The question has more to do with the committee-think people offering the award. You may remember the failure of a similar group of people who decided that Duke Ellington was not worthy of a Pulitzer. So now this other prestigious group is offering Sonny Rollins a prize. As one creative musician confided to me about another type of award, “There are critics who hate my music and critics who praise my music. But neither of them has the slightest idea what I’m trying to do.” And so, in December we will tune in to the Kennedy Center Honors extravaganza on PBS and keep our fingers crossed, watching to see whether someone made a breakthrough on the committee--a breakthrough that might give viewers some kind of understanding of what a Saxophone Colossus really is...

The double bill 9/14 at the Acton Jazz Cafe did not disappoint. The early duo with Paul Broadnax and Peter Kontrimas artistically was up to its hand-in-glove self. Perhaps inspired by a recent Canadian transcontinental train trip, Paul was particularly engaging with his keyboard work, and--even after all these years--Peter’s solos seem to get better every week. Fans are indeed fortunate to be able to catch them every week. Speaking of every week, the new double bill is for the time being scheduled to be a Wednesday weekly gig. The nightcap of the event is the Jerry Bergonzi Quartet, which offers somewhat shifting personnel each week. The 9/14 lineup included pianist Steve Hunt, Rock-of-Gibraltar bassist Bruce Gertz, and the almost ubiquitous Austin McMahon on drums. Anyone who has had the good fortune of following the Boston music scene for the past few decades knows that there are few musical connections as profound as that of Jerry and Bruce. And with all that it is difficult to discern whether that connection is so powerful that whoever performs with them inevitably gets swept along into the music or simply that they are exceptional in choosing partners. Steve and Austin were with them all the way, pushing and challenging and soloing at the highest level. For at least a few weeks jazz fans will have the opportunity of catching this double bill of quite different but equally compelling music. Catch it while you can...

Mat Maneri concluded his residency at NEC with an evening in celebration of his father, Love Lines: A Tribute to Joe Maneri. I must confess that always I will have a special feeling for Joe Maneri. We shared beers. Listened to and discussed music. And I cannot begin to explain how much I miss those sessions (mostly at his home). And here I was 9/15 in Jordan Hall in the presence of students, relatives, teachers, and fans who had their own timeless memories of Joe. Some of them shared remembered moments and/or music with the rest of us. Among the musicians were Hankus Netsky and Tanya Kalmanovitch (directors of the event), James Bergin, Randy Peterson, Joe Morris, and a host of wonderful young musicians who had participated in Mat Maneri’s NEC residency during the week. The salient feature of the evening was the successful programming suggestion of the span of creativity of Joe Maneri. Yes, there were gaps--the remarkable “baroque” student piano pieces, the mere hint of Joe’s expressionist/serial works, and ultimately the improvisatory brilliance of the man himself. But what was covered was significant. One of the best insights into Joe Maneri occurred at the beginning of the second half of the evening when son Mat and wife Sonja took over the stage. Sonja’s engaging and vibrant interpretations of a phonetic and then a graphic poem by Joe lifted audience members out of their seats while Mat’s pensive smile was all pride and joy. Then Mat’s viola offered superb commentary while Sonja made clear something of the expanse of the human heart with her presentation of “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.” All in all it was a terrific evening of performance art and celebration. It was the final event of Mat’s residency. A very successful conclusion. The evening was a fine demonstration of the Joe Maneri legacy. A significant part of that legacy is Mat Maneri. He learned more than notes from his father, and he took what he learned to new places. Joe was sometimes extremely confident and sometimes insecure. It was during a few of his confident moments that he would pause and turn to me with a combination of pride and awe and say, “You know, Mat’s a better improvisor than I am.” Big shoulders to stand on...

Even though the meeting took place near the end of September, it was something of an end-of-summer reunion. Pandelis Karayorgis had returned from a month in Greece where he and his family were attempting to cope with the financial turmoil. Forbes Graham recently had returned from a different set of experiences in Germany and Italy. In addition, the two of them were being reunited with Jacob William and Laurence Cook for the first time in months. Therefore, it is not surprising that the music performed 9/28 at the Outpost was “reunion music” of people who share strong sonic connections. It is impossible to know what each musician brought to the gig. A summer’s worth of experiences and more. But maybe what carried the music most effectively was the very fact of each person being involved in music making with other people who are passionate, prepared, and committed to improvised music at the highest level. In effect, musicians who understand the privilege of participating in something bigger than all of us. And I was lucky enough to be there...

A lot of folks seem to like the images that are available on the Boston Jazz Scene. That is understandable. Even sonic art is to a great extent visual. It is with images in mind that I note the passing of Frank Driggs 9/20 at the age of 81. He contributed to jazz as a musician and author. But undoubtedly his most significant contribution to the music is his remarkable photo collection. Scholars and fans for decades have turned to him to find the exactly right photo of Louis or Monk or Billie for their research and publications. If you never have taken a look at the book of photos he put together with the help of Harris Lewine, Black Beauty, White Heat: A Pictorial History of Classic Jazz, 1920-1950, do yourself a favor. Buy a copy or borrow one from your neighborhood library. Put on the coffee, sit down, and rejoice in the photos...

The Farrell-Parker-Schapperoew Trio performed on three consecutive days at the Lily Pad. According to witnesses, because of poor publicity the audience of the first evening was quite small. However, the word eventually got out anyway. I had to miss the first two performances but fortunately was one of the lucky “standing” in the SRO crowd 9/17. If anyone showed up to the gig expecting the Parker-von Schlippenbach-Lytton Trio, he would have been confused--but not disappointed. The pianist and drummer of this trio (two Americans) had much more in common with Cecil Taylor and Andrew Cyrille. And they came to play. The trio--Evan Parker, Charles Farrell (who made the event possible), and Jim Schapperoew--performed exhilarating music during the first and third sets. One of the bonuses of those sets is that Evan chose to perform exclusively on tenor sax (no doubt a particular treat for fans who witness his music rarely). As if to compensate for the lack of soprano sax, he devoted the too-brief second set exclusively to the straight horn, resulting in an even greater number of disbelief-driven head shakings and sighs. At the end of the afternoon Evan Parker with a smile explained to the audience that he is too old to try to enter the U.S. illegally and, due to immigration difficulties (no doubt a reference to the compounding 1980 and 9/11 actions resulting in both the great financial cost and endless paperwork necessary to enter the country as a musician), the performances at the Lily Pad probably would be his last in the U.S. Then he made gracious comments about U.S. audiences and gestured broadly to the SRO Lily Pad crowd. Various musicians later claimed they would work to help ease the entry burden. For the sake of the music I wish them much success. The situation is terrible. After the third set I walked over to Evan Parker to talk with him. Of course, there was a line of young people (with questions) attempting to drink from the fount. One of those people was a young violinist I recognized from performances at the 9/15 Joe Maneri Tribute (Yasmine Azaiez, if I’m reading the program notes correctly). It struck me that several years more than a dozen before that young lady was born, Evan Parker was a great and revered improvisor. As the 9/17 sets of music at the Lily Pad showed clearly, his work is even more profound today. Such growing brilliance over a remarkable span of years should stand as a demonstration of passionate and consistent daily commitment to artistic excellence. Eventually I got a chance to say “thank you” again and chat briefly. Considering all the questions that had been asked, I opened with, “All the good questions have been asked. So all that is left for me is to ask the big one: What is the meaning of life?” We both laughed. Then he paused and said, “I’ve been reading two wonderful books on the subject.” He then began telling me about them. But shortly, he was interrupted with the news that he must leave immediately to catch his plane home. We said our quick goodbyes. I left the gallery and smiled as I thought to myself, “If only we had a little more time, Evan Parker would have explained to me the meaning of life.” No matter. I had just witnessed three sets of music that accomplished the task beautifully...


August 2011

I have a pretty good idea what is going on. But what is going on is not easy to explain in terms of “conventional wisdom.” Melissa Kassel, Tom Zicarelli, and friends brought music to the Lily Pad 8/4, and it was exceptional--as it often is. Band members have worked together for years and even decades. So the fact that they communicate well together is not surprising. But familiarity tends to breed as many negatives as positives. Usually more negatives. That original or classic work the band has played countless times over the years tends to get tired, sluggish. The tunes/arrangements tend to become mechanical and binding, rather than exhilarating and liberating (as the selection probably was back in the Stone Age when the band first played it). If that’s not enough, think of a marriage. Some marriages get stronger over time, but--today at least--most degenerate and die. However, none of that seems to happen to the Kassel-Zicarelli bands. It is not merely that the playing--with the durable Bruno Råberg and Phil Grenadier at its core--gets better. Each time I hear the band the solos are more open, more adventuresome. Certainly the reliability of band members means that a soloist can take risks with the knowledge that mistakes or “mistakes” cannot mean failure. For example, drummer Gary Fieldman 8/4 was occasionally unsure about the proceedings around him. But, having worked with this band before, Gary knows that his own ears and the alert people around him will create a clear path forward. For the regulars, there is the sense that anything is possible. And with all that, there is something else. I don’t know how, but somehow early in the life of the band Melissa and Tom made it clear (not necessarily through words) that the highest priority of the band is taking chances, taking the leap. Maybe that’s why Bruno and Phil remain with the band. Where else can they push their own music as far as they can dream and have the only consequences revealed as beauty?...

As is the case of many cities, Boston is home to a variety of weekly and bi-weekly free publications. Free is good. But an awful lot of what is in those publications is less than thoughtful, intellectually or spiritually stimulating, or even engaging. Primarily they seem to be concerned with “things” (mostly stuff people should be buying and what is hip for the next couple of days or weeks). Nevertheless, ever the optimist, I check out these publications on occasion in the hope that there might be even something distracting in them. On the whole the practice is a futile exercise. But I hit pay dirt recently when I picked up the 8/9-22 issue of Stuff Magazine. Instead of light-weight copy the publication was filled with nothing but page after page of photos taken by local photographers in Boston in a single day/night. Of course, there were ads. But they were not a distraction because the photos were far more engaging than the ads. Pretty amazing. The editors in that issue (just about the only copy to be found) claim that the “One Night in Boston” feature is an annual event. If so, I must have missed past incarnations. Or this is the first of a planned annual event. In any case, I wish the project well. But I must confess to pessimism. It is difficult to image typical advertisers wanting to support a magazine with substantive content...

I caught the Broadnax-Kontrimas Duo at the Acton Jazz Cafe 8/10. Anyone who reads this Journal with any consistency at all knows that I love the music Paul and Peter make every week at the club. This evening was particularly fine. The house was almost packed (pretty amazing for a Wednesday gig), and the music was through the roof. I don’t know how many times I’ve witnessed these guys perform over the decades, and I’ve always left the gigs filled with music, really happy. That’s a heck of a lot of music. But something extraordinary happened 8/10. Paul Broadnax and Peter Kontrimas played the best music I’ve ever heard from them. I can’t say it any better or clearer than that. I really feel lucky to have witnessed the event...

I was traveling around New England in the middle of a brief vacation when I had a business meeting in the Oak Bar of the Fairmont Copley Plaza in Boston. Some folks may remember that from the 1930s to about 1974 the location was known as the Merry-Go-Round Room, a night club in which such jazz musicians as Ray Santisi and Max Kaminsky would perform on a stage that spun very slowly, as if it were a slow motion merry-go-round. Since that time, the room has been known as the Oak Bar. I associate the Oak Bar mostly with the performances during the 1980s of Dave McKenna (who also performed there when it was the Merry-Go-Round Room). Back then the room was noisy with most of the people ignoring Dave’s genius. As some readers know, Dave liked it that way. He much preferred to play “background bar piano” than center-stage jazz. Nevertheless, the reason I kept returning to witness his great music was the fact that--in spite of the hubbub--the sound system was so good that I could hear every note. And so I found myself in the Oak Bar 8/25, noticing that (in spite of renovations that make it look a bit more like the room might have looked circa 1900) the club looks very much as it did when Dave played there. (Of course, the bandstand is about 15 to 20 feet East of where it was when Dave performed.) The atmosphere is much the same also. And--miracle of miracles--there is music performed by living breathing humans in the Oak Bar. At a time when ASCAP/BMI and the musicians union have all but killed live (and even piped in) music in bars and restaurants through the financial squeeze, it is relatively rare and wonderful to witness humans perform real music in the moment at a hotel bar. But the real reason to show up at the Oak Bar is that you can witness more than live music. Both the music and the sound system 8/25 were top notch. For some reason, the folks who run the Oak Bar seem to have retained the same sound system that was in place when Dave McKenna played there. People were yammering, but you could hear every note. Even more remarkable, pianist Jane Potter and bassist Dmitry Gorodetsky showed up to play. And nobody stopped them. That’s the part that’s the killer. You probably know the countless stories of hotel guests or room managers telling the musicians to tone it down, that the music is too noisy. People talked and could hear each other to continue the conversations, and people such as myself could sit back and actually hear the music. And even though the duo played for real, took chances (and blessedly made mistakes), and made ear stretching sounds, no one complained. No one interfered. It seems as if the people running the Oak Bar really want live jazz in the room. Well, that’s what they’ve got...
9/4 Update: I returned to the Oak Bar 9/3, and this time I was not involved in any business. I had a chance to relax more and check things out. Sure enough, the first thing I discovered is that there is no “top notch” sound system. In fact there is no sound system. When the music began I got up and walked around the room to check the sound. It is true that if you sit near the piano, you can hear it better above the conversations. But even in the farthest point in the room, back near the Oak Room restaurant entrance, the piano was just fine. The room has great piano acoustics. I say piano (rather than duo) because pianist Bob Baughman was doing a solo gig. And he had his hands full. Here he is doing a bar gig and, before he plays a note, he asks if anyone has a request. “Chopin” is the request from a nearby table. Chopin? This is a fine bar with a piano and it is in the USA. Chopin? Sure enough--from memory--he played Chopin and in fact a medley of three late 19th century “hits.” Later in the set, the same person requested some Mozart. He wasn’t being mean or “difficult.” The guy just didn’t understand that in a fine bar with a piano, the pianist should be expected to play a wide range of pop and jazz material. But western classical music--even pop western classical? No. And so Bob had to dig out a chart for some Mozart and sight-read the first movement of a sonata. With it all he played a fine range of music by Weill, Ellington, Parker, Monk (a medley that was not led off with “’Round Midnight”), Waller, and other familiar giants. As you may know, Bob Baughman has been a “regular” on the Boston scene for decades, performing with all the best straight-ahead musicians. So in some ways it’s not a surprise that he handled such a wide variety of requests so handily. And yet, even knowing that, I was knocked out particularly by his Ellington and Waller. Oh, technically he was impressive, but that wasn’t the reason. As in the case of all the other material, Bob Baughman did not sound like the musician whose material he was borrowing. He put his own stamp on it. And in the case of the Waller and Ellington, he transformed the material as only the very best jazz musicians can. Yes, he had his hands full. But, fortunately for those of witnessing it all, it was all music...

Although it has nothing to do with jazz specifically, hurricane Irene warrants at least some comments. It disrupted some gigs and--more important--caused death, destruction, and hardship along the eastern edge of the country. As it approached my wife and I were in the middle of a mini-tour of a vacation in New England. Naturally, things were cut short. When I was young (1955-60) hurricanes were more common in New England than they are today, and during that time we got hit by three particularly powerful ones. My most vivid hurricane memory is of me looking out the front window of the dining room and seeing a large metal trash barrel floating in the air about four feet above the ground, dancing down the street as if it were controlled by a puppeteer’s strings. Hurricane Irene was supposed to be like that. Of course, when I was a kid those hurricanes were an exciting adventure. Now I see things differently--the loss of life and the damage to property. As it turned out, more than 600,000 people in Massachusetts lost electric power. We lost power late in the morning. As far as wind is concerned, it was nothing like the storms I witnessed as a child. By the time it hit Massachusetts Irene was downgraded from hurricane to tropical storm. Nevertheless, those “gentle” 60 to 70 mile per hour winds had me anxious. In the late afternoon the worst part of the storm was over, and my wife and I went for a walk around the block to inspect the damage. On the next block over from us a group of neighbors were having a “Hurricane Irene Party” right in the middle of the street. Hot dogs, burgers, beer, wine. A fine celebration. When we got home the electricity was back on. No food was spoiled. And now we are “recovering.” We have more than a week’s worth of work ahead of us, chopping up branches and even fairly large fallen trees in the yard and cleaning up the mess. More important, we are very much concerned about friends of ours who live in Vermont. We have not been able to get in touch with them and flooding in that part of Vermont has been very bad. We hope their fortune has been as good as ours...

The Rock Flint Contemporary Ensemble--Forbes Graham, Todd Brunel, Andrea Pensado, and Junko Simons with Argentine guest Adriana de los Santos--showed up at the Outpost 8/20, bringing a challenging combination of acoustic and electronic instruments. Maybe a more meaningful word would be “problematic.” When there are five musicians and often three of them simultaneously are playing electronic instruments of intermingling and overlapping timbres, it can be somewhat difficult for musicians and audience members to figure out what is going on sonically and geographically. To some extent that problem put what may be described as a “constructive burden” on those people playing acoustic instruments. Because, although there is potentially broadly sonic and timbral overlap between acoustic and electronic instruments, it is the acoustic instruments that have the advantage generally when it comes to defining sonic architecture. Therefore two patterns evolved during the evening. First, the acoustic instruments saw their advantage and took it. Not most of the time, but enough of the time that other acoustic instruments and the electronic ones had more breathing and listening room without having to resort to absolute silence. The other pattern is that the electronic instruments had to move in a greater variety of directions than they might normally do. Of course, what I am writing here comes across as much more formulaic than I would like. The evening’s performances were not simply a matter of musicians determining, “This door just closed; so I’ll go out that window” or “This area is cluttered; so I’ll get out my broom or walk to an emptier space.” That’s one of the most remarkable things about the evening. Without using formulas or fall-backs, these musicians faced up to a problem, turned it into a musical challenge, and prevailed with a sound adventure much more of love and beauty than sweat and labor. During the evening Andrea mentioned that Adriana and she were at the beginning of a brief transcontinental tour. After the performance was over, Andrea told me that they were starting with a half dozen gigs east of the Mississippi and then flying to California for two gigs. Somewhat startled by the brevity and span of the tour, I said, “Boy are you going to lose money.” Knowingly, Andrea broke out laughing. You can tell who the real troupers are...


July 2011

The first part of a double bill 7/7 at the Outpost featured a fine jazz trio of two musicians (Eric Hofbauer and Eric Rosenthal) who most often improvise within the context of composed/arranged music and a third musician (Jorrit Dijkstra) who performs music that is more an even split between jazz with charts and free jazz. Even though these highly respected musicians are not strangers, the challenge of them coming together to improvise freely is significant. Therefore, it is no surprise that it took them about fifteen minutes to find their sea legs. Once they did, the stage lit up with fire and sonic insight. That’s why they are highly respected musicians...

Recently I spent several days in the White Mountains of New Hampshire--everything from the joy of Franconia Falls to the stunning magnificence of the recently renovated Mt. Washington Resort (formerly Hotel). Every time I visit the area, I spend time in the Village Book Store in Littleton. Not far from that place I spotted a painted piano in the street with a passerby playing for those who would listen. Eventually I discovered four (although I’m told there are five) such pianos scattered around Littleton. Inspired by similar projects in Austin, Texas and New York City, the good people of Littleton--spearheaded by local entrepreneur Dave Ernsberger and the Chamber of Commerce--acquired, renovated, and painted (with the brushwork of the Littleton Studio School and others) the pianos for the benefit of the locals and visitors. Local broadcaster WCAX offers a video sequence of a Littleton Piano Project performance in June on Main Street right after the first piano was made available. On one occasion I had a sandwich on the patio of the Oasis Restaurant and witnessed a brave local pianist bake in the 85-degree sun while serenading me and passersby for a half hour. A fine example of the power of music in action... 
9/30/13 Update: Apparently the piano-in-the-streets bug finally has hit Boston.  Sort of.  From September 27 through October 14 the Play Me, I’m Yours arts project under the auspices of Celebrity Series of Boston settled into 75 different locations in the Boston area.  So far every piano I’ve seen around town has had a seated person with it, entertaining passersby with engaging piano music.  Most of the pianos in Boston, Cambridge, Brookline, and Somerville have been donated to local charities and community groups.  That’s a great idea, but it would have been so much better to have maintained the majority of those pianos on the streets so all of us could enjoy the music and some young people could have the experience for the first time of witnessing in person the fact that living, breathing humans make music...
 
The Tommy Gallant Jazz Festival in Portsmouth, New Hampshire 7/10 featured four ensembles, three of which included musicians we associate with Boston. Looking at the program for the afternoon (and later listening to the music), I was struck once again by the number of George Garzone “clones” there are in the world. I put the word “clones” in quotation marks because, if they truly were clones, they would play just like Mr. Garzone. Yes, we are stuck with tenor players (in particular) who have spent years gathering Garzone techniques and tools but none of the artistry of the man. I have not posed the question to George, but I do wonder if he is as tired and bored as I am of that sincerest form of flattery. The George Garzone Trio (with Sean Farias and Brooke Soffereman) opened the fest with an all-Boston band led by fire-breathing George Garzone on tenor sax. The band took off and gained intensity as it went along until NH pianist Ryan Parker walked onstage and made the group a quartet. Ryan Parker is technically up to the task. But the well-oiled trio came to a halt and had to find its bearings as a quartet. The adjustment took a while, and eventually everything came together with a gorgeous George ballad closer that brought to mind all the artistry of Billy Eckstine and John Coltrane, “I Want to Talk about You.” The two strongest players in the next group--the Press Room Trio featuring the Ballou Brothers--were NH residents that we associate with Boston, Marty Ballou (whose work with drummer Les Harris, Jr. was right on the mark) and Dave Ballou. The highlight of the day was the Paul Broadnax Quintet with Fred Haas, Dave Trefethen (returning to New England from his Florida home for the festivities), Peter Kontrimas, and Les Harris, Jr. It was fitting that the most engaging band on the bill was Paul’s because the entire festival was “dedicated to Paul Broadnax, pianist/vocalist extraordinaire.” The fest closed with the local favorite (headed by Dave Seiler and consisting of NH musicians), the Seacoast Big Band. It should be noted that as successful as the Paul Broadnax Quintet’s outing was at the festival in Prescott Park, things got even better later in the evening when Paul and friends fronted a jam session at the Press Club in Portsmouth. Things got better to a great extent because clubs are made for jazz. Festivals are made for crowds. The only problem with the club gig is that it was promoted as a jam session. Most of the first set featured the same quintet as on the festival with Marty Ballou filling in beautifully for Peter Kontrimas. It was hand in glove all the way, with each musician reading the minds of the other four on stage. Then the jam session happened. Every time the quintet was allowed to do its thing, the music soared. But mostly lesser lights kept coming up to the stage to demonstrate (quite obviously unbeknown to the comers) just how much better the hand-in-glove quintet musicians were. But it was a superb evening anyway. That’s how good the hand-in-glovers were...

Buck and Wing. It’s an old dance routine, but it has an MFA ring to it. As anyone who has been reading this Journal for the past couple years knows, I have not been enamored of the direction the MFA has taken under the leadership of Malcolm Rogers. The guy can generate financial support far better than Max Bialystock. But ongoing evidence--particularly regarding the twentieth century--is that he has the aesthetic acumen of a nineteenth century rural estate valet. And so in the near future we will see the unveiling--open kimono?--of the “new” Contemporary Wing. Previously this Journal has taken on the likely meaning of the term “contemporary” (as suggested by MFA policy). And nothing I’ve read alters my stated concerns. During the Rogers reign we have seen a number of acquisitions of works created during the past seventy-five years. Among the most striking patterns among those MFA holdings is the fact that acquired works by even the most abstract artists tend to have figurative characteristics. Of course, there is nothing wrong with figurative art per se. For example, I’m a Philip Guston fan. But I think you get the idea. We will not see the Contemporary Wing in all of its “narrative” glory (and isn’t it time to retire the term “narrative” from academic treatises? After all, the term has more than served its purpose of obfuscating lazy scholarship and what is too often shallow intellectual waters) until September. Certainly I can wait. But some day I will have to make the trek...

It’s a co-op band, but 7/7 at the Outpost Lisa Mezzacapa danced with her acoustic baby bass while calling the shots for a band from San Francisco, Cylinder (Darren Johnston, Aram Shelton, Lisa Mezzacapa, and Kjell Nordeson) that plays a wide array of original charts from band members. It’s a band from all corners including Canada (Johnston), Chicago (Shelton), and Sweden (Nordeson). All the charts featured heads and allowed for plenty of solo space. Johnston has the prettiest sound of the group. Aram--who seems to be very comfortable in his new home by the Bay--plays with the most confidence. Lisa Mezzacapa is exemplary in a leadership role and gets a big bass punch from her miniature instrument. Kjell, who has lived in SF for several years is the “old pro” in the group, undeniably the strongest player. No doubt his strong ensemble and solo work are due to the fact that he continues to tour and play in Europe, bumping heads with the best post-Ayler musicians in the world...

How do you top these guys? They call themselves the Parallel Universe Quintet, but it’s really the (slightly modified) Steve Lantner Quartet--Allan Chase, Steve, Joe Morris, and Laurence Cook--plus an extra saxophone. So, unless the extra musician is trying to sabotage the gig, you know the music is going to be terrific. Well, the potential saboteur 7/23 at the Outpost was Jim Hobbs. Now what? I mean you’ve got a great quartet, and Jim Hobbs shows up obviously completely engaged in the music. So this is as good as music gets. It’s that simple. A couple notes of potential interest: Allan Chase played the soprano sax and the baritone sax exclusively, leaving the alto sax “hole” to be filled by Jim Hobbs. Also, on the break Laurence Cook told me that he plays the vibes. Ponder this. I’ve known Laurence for I don’t know how many decades, and I’ve witnessed him performing times beyond measure. But at the Outpost 7/23 he informs me that he plays the vibes. I should be used to these Laurence Cook surprises, but I never am prepared for such revelations. This kind of stuff happens all the time with him. Every time it happens I am kicked in the head. How can I know this man for so long and not know he plays vibes? I’m brain dead, right? But it gets worse. Consider the fact that my favorite vibes players--e.g., Lionel Hampton, Alan Dawson, and Lou Magnano--were drummers first. I should have anticipated that as brilliant a percussionist as Laurence Cook would have the vibraphone as part of his arsenal. No. Brain dead. But it gets worse. Laurence told me that in the 1980s he performed on vibes on a regular basis with local piano legend Al Vega (obviously a straight-ahead gig). So now I’m seeing this huge billboard in my front yard with an image of Laurence playing vibes and I realize it’s been there for years, but I haven’t ever seen it. So much for investigative jazz journalism...

All four of them have strong Bennington connections--and specifically with the late Bill Dixon. They came together at the Outpost 7/21 as a reunion of sorts. But members of the New Language Collaborative--Glynis Lomon, Eric Zinman, and Syd Smart--have performed together on a regular basis for decades. They could find each other in the dark without moving even a finger. But New York City guest Shoshke Rayzl over the years has developed an aesthetic somewhat different from that of the locals. I know that’s a statement that will surprise readers who believe jazz begins and ends with chord changes. But the paths of “free” improvisation are--if anything--more numerous and varied than those of “straight ahead” jazz. For example, unlike members of the New Language Collaborative, Shoshke Rayzl obviously revels in context. Even when she is in a “solo” role she prefers to build layers of sound, rather than more “conventional” linear melodies. And that fact created challenges. How would a kick-ass, melodically-oriented free jazz group react to a context-driven musician? Bury her in sound? Ignore the sonic aberration? Well, maybe lesser musicians would do that. But not these pros--in every sense. Once the members of the local trio realized the situation, their concern obviously was to make it work. Syd employed everything from minimalist stick work to silence to brushes. Glynis employed a wide range of vocal and instrumental devices either to create “holes” for the guitar or to play off the context. I’ve never witnessed Eric search with such conviction--via mallets on strings or focussed treble keyboard work--to make the guitar layers sing. What’s most troubling to me as I write this--as valid as I believe the observations are--is that my comments probably are coming across as some type of apology for accommodation. And, although the concerted efforts to make the music work are significant, what is most significant is the palpable personal connection that took place in the gallery, the meeting of sonics and love...


June 2011

Some pundit many decades ago suggested that the history of jazz really is the history of jazz percussion. There is something to that idea. It is difficult--I suspect impossible--to think of a major development in the history of jazz in which significant changes in the thinking about time (or at least the role of the drummer) were not central to that development. The first quarter century of the music was held together by such two-beat innovators as Kaiser Marshall and Vic Berton. It is almost impossible to imagine the evolution of Swing without Jo Jones and Gene Krupa, among others. The percussion legends of the Bebop era include everyone from Kenny Clarke to Max Roach to Baggy Grant (like Marshall, one of our own). And so it continues. After mid-century a number of jazz LPs featuring drummers were produced. However, considering how important percussion is to the development of the music, in some ways it is surprising how few drum duo recordings exist from the first seventy-five years of the twentieth century. The one album from that period that stands out (as much for its uniqueness as anything else) is the pairing of Buddy Rich and Max Roach, Rich versus Roach (Mercury 20448). Nevertheless, because the idea was so unusual, the producers brought in Gigi Gryce to write ensemble charts for the sessions. On the other hand, it should be noted that the first recording of a completely improvised solo drum performance was made by Baby Dodds in 1946. Of course, no one anticipated huge sales for something so adventuresome. With the advent of Post-Ayler jazz--and the significant change in the role of percussion in that music--independent record labels have presented a number of percussion duos and other “odd” instrumental groups on record. Just as Buddy Rich is thought of as a giant of the late Swing era and Max Roach is known as a Bebop and new music pioneer, the duo that showed up 6/9 at the Outpost represented jazz percussion of different eras. The advantage in communication between Laurence Cook and Luther Gray is that both percussionists come out of a set of very similar aesthetics and no doubt can catalog a list of similar historical heroes. Whatever the preconceived notions of audience members might have been, quite probably everyone--including the drummers--showed up at least to some extent to find out what would happen when the two men met musically. Things began quietly. One might even say tentatively. And then the percussion discussion began. Sometimes one musician would stop to let the other go off on his own, perhaps just to get to know the gait of the other better. Laurence was the first to listen in this manner. But mostly it was two sets of musical conversation, more about creating music than cataloging techniques (although technique was central to what they were doing). There were high points and low points. It was, after all, a journey. The music of the low points was merely outstanding. The high points were among the most beautiful music I’ve heard during the past couple decades. I felt privileged to be a witness to it all...

For decades the intersection of the arts has been an important component of the Boston arts scene. Unfortunately there seems to have been a drop off in the quantity of that kind of artistic activity in recent years. Thankfully such musicians as Neil Leonard and Jane Wang continue bringing that tradition forward. And they aren’t alone. The Across the Ages Dance Project at Green Street Studios 6/17 and 18 presented mostly pre-recorded music and dance with one of the highlights being dance accompaniment involving a combination of narrative by two speakers and solo improvised cello as performed by Glynis Lomon, a long-time champion of such marriages. While most new music fans would have preferred more examples of improvised music accompaniment, the performances I witnessed were a fine example of what positive things can happen when different art forms are presented together in creative ways. Maybe other arts groups will pick up on this idea. It would be a healthy shot in the arm for all art forms...

In our list of Scheduled Highlights we mentioned that Hans Poppel would be returning to the Boston area to visit and perform 6/7 at the Outpost. The listing stated that he would be playing with four other musicians. As it turned out, Hans performed with Tom Hall, Neil Leonard, Curt Newton, Jeff Song, Vic Rawlings, Steve Norton, and more. The evening was filled with mix-and-match performances including duos, trios, and beyond. Among the best music of the evening were two “Han Solo” offerings that covered the spectrum of old to new and familiar (Monk anyone?) to out. But, as the packed house of fans and fellow musicians demonstrated, the evening was to a great extent about friendship and reunion. Maybe the most enduring message of the evening is that Hans and wife Stephanie should make the Atlantic journey more frequently...

Even though Boston is a travel destination for many tourists, we generally do a less than impressive job of promoting the city, particularly considering the value of tourist dollars. The online site BostonSmarts.com is attempting to fix that problem, and the results so far seem pretty solid. There is a lot of information there, and I will return to dig in and find out more. You can click here to get to the site. Just to prove that on occasion a bit of flattery will get you somewhere, I disclose that in a part of the BostonSmarts site there is a Boston Guide that makes suggestions regarding where else to turn to for info. In a discussion of night life, the Guide recommends the Boston Jazz Scene site for info about jazz. I thank the folks at BostonSmarts.com for the plug. You can find the guide here...

The line between jazz and so-called “classical” music remains pretty much intact. From the early days of jazz there have been classical musicians who admired jazz (e.g., check out Schulhoff’s 1921 composition, Suite for Chamber Orchestra, Opus 37) and jazz musicians who composed or performed classical music (e.g., Beiderbecke and Goodman). But the musics have remained remarkably “separate.” There continues even something of a gap between classical and jazz musicians. Typically musicians who venture into both realms achieve mediocrity in both. The exceptions almost always succeed most convincingly on the classical side and would serve the music best by sticking to the Hummel or Rachmaninoff. Instances in which musicians’ jazz is superior to their classical efforts are almost unheard of. Joe Maneri and Mel Powell are such rarities (even though their classical compositions justifiably are praised). But even these two exceptions (to my knowledge) never attempted combining the two in a single performance. I’m not talking about the use of classical quotes and techniques by such successful musicians as Dave Brubeck and Donal Fox. It is the true integration of new ear-stretching composed music and ear-stretching improvisation that is missing in action. But wait! A visit to the Outpost 6/8 demonstrates that something contrary is going on--successful integration of two types of ear stretching. Pandelis Karyorgis, Steve Swell, and Guillermo Gregorio showed up and offered the audience music from charts having more in common with Maderna and Babbitt than Mandel and Basie, and the scores were designed to challenge both improvisor and listener. It might be easy to assume such successful integration of new classical composition techniques and improvisation is unusually difficult. However, on 6/8 at the Outpost we witnessed three completely different compositional and improvisational personalities pulling off that integration with great success. Typically in those rare instances in which both musics are integrated the attempt comes off as strained or clever. None of that here. Just beautiful NEW music. Thank you. Encore. By the way, among the charts used on 6/8 were several graphic scores by Guillermo Gregorio. For those who are interested, some his graphic charts can be seen at his web site...

One of the Fringe’s first “away gigs” was at a museum in New York. And now MOMA has just informed me that the trio is back doing it again a million years later. So, if you are in New York on 7/17 with a hankering to see Robert Rauschenberg’s Bed (1955), Louise Nevelson’s Sky Cathedral (1958), or a recent acquisition of some Cy Twombly sculpture, you can do all that and then hang out in the MOMA Sculpture Garden to witness Boston’s free-bop icons demonstrate what it’s all about...

Jim Hobbs introduced the band as The Hobbettes, no doubt a Frodo-ian slip. But there was nothing small or slipshod about this band--including Forbes Graham, Junko Fujiwara Simons, Bill Lowe, Jacob William, and Luther Gray. They came to Ryles 6/28 to make big (if not always loud) noise, and they succeeded. Featuring Jim’s typically outstanding solos and charts, the music was thematically and structurally varied and always presented constructive challenges to the fine soloists. Junko had her ups and downs, but--to a great extent because half the time she performs with musicians of this high caliber--these days her “downs” are music at a very high level. And her “ups” on this night consisted of some of her finest playing. Bill Lowe was a sub on this occasion, but he showed up as more than regular, demonstrating some of his most compellingly understated lines. Powerful understatement is something a lot of would-be jazz musicians need to pay attention to, and Bill Lowe was there as a prime example. Forbes Graham is on fire. As fans know, he’s been a force on the scene for years. However, during the past couple months he’s been reaching down and finding stuff that’s been knocking me out of my chair. Maybe it’s the new mouthpiece. Maybe it’s a wonderful personal life. I have no idea. But, whatever it is, I hope it keeps happening. Is Jacob William the most underrated bass player in town? That question seems to be something of a redundancy. Given the lack of commentary that acoustic bass players garner, it is difficult to imagine any one of them being “underrated” among bass players. Therefore it was a great pleasure on a break to discuss George Duvivier and Jacob with another bass player who was catching the gig. The joy that the bass player shared in witnessing Jacob’s playing was telling confirmation. And then there was Luther. Scary Luther. On the money Luther. As I’ve noted before, we are going through a great period for new music in Boston. Nevertheless, as always has been the case, there is more boring sonic junk passing itself off as jazz than there is really good stuff. Luther has the ability--at least while he’s on the stand--to make one forget the prevalence of sonic junk by offering hope, vision, and substantive chops...

The New England Journal of Aesthetic Research’s Greg Cook and other co-conspirators 6/15 carried out a now well-celebrated guerrilla exhibition to honor the 40th anniversary of the legendary exhibition, “Flush with the Walls.” The original guerrilla exhibition featured the work of six Boston area artists displayed in a men’s room of the MFA in 1971. The meaning of the comment was obvious. Ironically, the repeated joke exhibition in MFA bathrooms takes place at a time when new (or even relatively recent) art is lacking in the displayed holdings of the MFA. In 1971 Boston After Dark stated that “the men’s room seems to be the only place in the Museum of Fine Arts that an exhibit by contemporary local artists can be seen.” And some things just don’t change...

As far as problematic timing goes, few events are in more trouble than when they take place on the same night as a major professional playoff game involving a local team. Such was the case for Eric Hofbauer and the Infrared Band--including Kelly Roberge, Sean Farias, and Miki Matsuki--6/15 at Johnny D’s when the two sets of music coincided as closely as possible to the three periods of hockey played that night. It wasn’t just any playoff game. It was the seventh and deciding game of the Stanley Cup Finals, and the TVs were on at the bar, and you can imagine the rest. I must confess that, although the current version of the Boston Bruins has not quite had the magic for me as the teams of y’Orr, I certainly would have been glued to a TV screen on that night under most circumstances. But a performance by the Infrared Band is not “most circumstances.” Add to that fact the lack of concerts by this quartet in recent months, and it was difficult for any serious fan to stay away. In spite of the competition at the bar, the band took on the music with serious fire in the belly. The first set consisted of all the music on the group’s latest and best CD--no minor challenge--and offered the attentive listener insight into the music that perhaps only can come from different hearings. If that were not enough, for the second set Eric brought Joel Yennior and Jerry Sabatini to join the band on some Infrared classics. It was a ball to hear the brass kick in on familiar tunes that fans know only from the original quartet. Better than the quartet alone? Of course not. But the sextet was worth catching all by itself because Joel and Jerry were not there merely to have some fun. They showed up to join the rest in some serious butt kicking. A fine time. And with it all, band members took the distractions at the bar in stride. For example, there were enough Bruins goals scored throughout the game that the roars from the bar were fairly equally dispersed among both sets. Accidentally some of the solos were concluded exactly when a goal was scored. Soloists in those instances took an extra-deep bow at the sound of the roar. I think that’s known as turning lemons into lemonade...


May 2011

It began as something of a train wreck. Maybe the rough start was predictable. After all, although Eric Zinman, Glynis Lomon, and Syd Smart have worked together for decades, it was the first time this specific octet (also including Kevin Frenette, Forbes Graham, Chris Kottke, Stefan Krist, and Jacob William) had performed in public. And, although strangers get together and jam successfully as free jazz groups all the time, just try it some time with an ensemble as large as an octet. Success in free jazz with those kinds of numbers is a lot more elusive than it might seem. That’s one of the reasons the Peter Brötzmann Tentet performs at a higher level today than it did ten years ago. Experience as an ensemble. Of course, these folks at the Outpost 5/20 are experienced warriors. They came to play, and they worked out the rough edges. Before the evening was over Glynis was soaring with her inimitable vocals and Viennese trombonist Stefan Krist brought forth a terrific Russian poem as a stirring folk song. The bonuses abounded with wonderful exchanges between Chris and Forbes, Eric more prodding (and beautifully so) than “soloing,” Jacob and Syd finding more to “talk about” than some people might expect, and Kevin keeping the train on the tracks--once it got rolling--for the whole evening. The whole thing became a joyous and memorable romp. Speaking of joy, it was particularly fine to catch Syd Smart back in action after a winter dominated by too many hospital visits and operations...

The experience the next night at the same venue was completely different--different instrumental resources and very different results. Junko Simons brought two fine musicians--Tom Plsek and Curt Newton--to the Outpost, and most of the evening was anything but raucous (even though these three are capable of bringing on the thunder). The first half of the evening mostly involved minimalist journeys, and almost the entire evening saw these folks taking a pointillist attack on sound, as if Georges Seurat and Morton Feldman were having dinner. And it was a fine sonic meal, full of explorations, as when briefly the only person not using a bow was Junko. In addition we got Curt’s toys and deconstructed sackbut with paper cup tribute to Jack Teagarden. In short--sonic colors more than satisfying to the palette...

We in the Boston area are fortunate to have much high-quality jazz and other improvised music available for fans. But there are other relevant events to celebrate. One such event was the marriage 5/22 of band leader Eric Hofbauer and ART production manager Elizabeth Bouchard. Here’s to a long, happy, and healthy life together...

Every member of the Steve Lantner Quartet has experience as a band leader and is a highly respected improvisor. In other words, it is worth checking out this band just to witness what any one member is doing. But the qualitative sum of this band remarkably exceeds the quality of its parts. For example, bassist Joe Morris (known primarily as an important guitar innovator) has a unique guitar-centric approach to the bass. Just as important, because he works at the instrument and has worked out his own music so clearly, he plays the bass better than many full-time bass players. When he shows up with this quartet, he brings his best chops and his best ideas. That means that everybody else had better show up ready to play. And Allan Chase does. He has performed everything from swing to totally free music convincingly. He teaches the stuff, having all the codifications at his finger tips. But, wisely, Allan leaves all the “learned” information on the classroom floor. He just picks up one of his saxophones and plays. It’s all “unlearned” and very much connected to and inspired by what the other band members are doing. And, of course, Luther Gray picks up what Joe and Allan are dishing up, digests it and percussively says, “More. More.” He can do that about as well as anyone playing the drums because his ears are huge and he has a unique and profound improvisatory voice. Of course, most of the blame has to ride on Steve’s shoulders. He’s the guy who brought these folks together and--more important--keeps them together. A lot of the reason this band works so well together, as it did 5/28 at the Outpost, is the respect Joe, Allan, and Luther have for Steve’s focus of purpose and inspiring piano prodding and dancing. Because of all those things and more, the band miraculously gets better each time it performs. For example, that 5/28 gig took place relatively early in 2011, and yet I know it will stick with me as one of the best performances of the year by any group. And given the quality of post-Ayler bands in town these days, that says a lot...

Longy School of Music has announced a “planned merger between Longy School of music and Bard College.” As in the case of any merger, caring observers inevitably keep their fingers crossed. Longy, recently grappling with serious economic problems, has a reputation for conservative musical tastes among its faculty (no doubt because of the ongoing influence of Nadia Boulanger on that institution). But the school has shown some significant forward thinking, particularly in the founding and development of its Modern American Music (MAM) program, one of the brighter lights among Boston’s respected music education institutions. One hopes that the connection between the two schools--particularly because of Bard’s sometimes adventuresome reputation--will result in greater emphasis on now and the future musically at Longy. MAM will become fifteen years old in 2012, and that surviving and thriving may bode well. Maybe there is hope...

When I arrived at the 5/14 gig at the Outpost, I discovered that Jim Hobbs’ head still was pre-occupied in the mud in a field in Indiana, and then Forbes Graham arrived apparently exhausted from a road trip. “Uh oh,” I said to myself (my brain also provided appropriate dark tones from some Noir movie). But I should have known better. This front line blew the place apart. Jim, perhaps compensating for mental (and perhaps physical) fatigue blew harder than I can remember him doing (and he’s known for shaking up buildings). And Forbes--no doubt inspired by a brand new mouthpiece--showed zero signs of sleepwalking, offering some of the most inspired Forbes Graham playing I’ve ever heard. It was not simply a matter of bringing up improvisational energy from who-knows-where. These two were playing startlingly beautiful music. Certainly they inspired each other. But they were not alone. The “rhythm section” (if such a term really applies to most post-Ayler jazz) supports the front line, but “rhythm section” personnel in this case also offer solos that support and inspire as well. Steve Lantner is a kick-ass prodder at the piano whose world-class improvisations warrant similar quality responses. Jacob William never stumbles as a soloist and his musical weight as the group’s leader means that no one falls asleep on his gigs. Laurence Cook, of course, is a true Titan, bringing ART down from the mountain (the one he owns). No one who is sane will mess with that. It’s no wonder Jim and Forbes played their butts off. Everyone else did...

The Newport Jazz Festival lineup has been announced, and several Boston area musicians will be featured. Among those performing 8/5-7 are Grace Kelly, the New Black Eagle Jazz Band, Berklee’s Mario Castro Quartet, and more...

I was delayed in arriving at the Outpost 5/10. So I caught only the end of Randy Pingrey’s solo set. The trombonist was finishing up with a jazz standard, and it sounded fine, but it was not enough to get a handle on who he is as a musician. Steve Norton was up next, pursuing Roscoe Mitchell’s Solo, using a variety of reed instruments (sopranino for the first time in my experience), a celesta, and a variety of household items and toys. Aside from erroneously claiming that the AACM was “founded in Chicago in the early ‘60s by Muhal Richard Abrams” (Abrams, the organization’s first president, was a co-founder with Fred Anderson, Roscoe Mitchell, Joseph Jarman, and a bunch of others), the program booklet put together by Steve about the piece was terrific. And his performance probably was the most focussed effort I’ve seen from him. “Seeing Steve,” by the way, goes back to the early 1980s; so that’s a lot of sonic seeing. The final solo set of the evening featured the work of Tom Plsek. I must confess that some years ago I had problems with Tom’s focus on “solving” technical problems with the unwieldy sackbut. He has won me over in more recent years. I do not know whether he has managed to put more music into the challenges or I’m just hearing better. Either way (or neither way), the only thing that does matter is that he plays the dickens out of the trombone technically, deconstructively, and musically. To put an exclamation mark on the set, he concluded things by dragging me onstage (almost always an unwise thing to do) so he could demonstrate his acoustic “tube” mute. Using now-obsolete airline in-flight-music tubes, the trombone mute causes the music to go directly from the mute to the headphone-wearing listener. The experience is strange both because the listener is the only person in the room who really can hear (and feel) what’s coming out of the horn AND because there is such a direct sense of one-to-one music that comes to the listener--along with sound pressure from the direct air input of the horn through the tubes. Chalk up one more argument for live music. I didn’t think of it at the time, but I imagine the setup has genuine creative possibilities for connecting musically with deaf people. I thank Tom for the opportunity. The whole experience was quite remarkable. After that, the three of them offered a fine closing set, making clear (among other things) what fine voicings can come from the combination of two trombones and a bass clarinet. Huzzahs...

If you are a guitar player or just a fan of the instrument perhaps you’ve been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York to catch the extraordinary exhibit of guitars (which continues through 7/4). If you are a guitar lover AND a Picasso enthusiast then there is even more reason to visit New York. Over at MOMA until June 6 there is a large gallery filled with drawn, painted, and sculpted guitars created by Picasso during 1912 through 1914. Pretty amazing stuff...

System Of 5 showed up at the Lily Pad 5/30 and tore the place apart again. I’ve written about this quintet before, invariably with glowing terms. Things haven’t changed. Except the band is better than ever. I was listening to the music and thinking about how fine the outfit is when the peculiarities of the personnel hit me. One of the most distinctive characteristics of the band is how different the musical character of each musician is. For example, Jeff Galindo--continuing on the same path established by such important New England trombone forebears as Roswell Rudd and Gary Valente--comes out of the tradition of street parades, the circus, and tailgate. That powerful tradition is there, right in your face. And, just as Messrs. Rudd and Valente did before him, Jeff uses those technical devices to push his solos and those of fellow band mates into the Now. Matt Langley approaches a solo quite differently. He offers an idea, turns its angles into the sun, hammers it sometimes startlingly, and wrestles with it until he has revealed--to himself and his audience--the very essence of that initial kernel. Different but also beautiful. You look at Jef Charland playing bass and inevitably think, “old school.” You get the feeling that you could travel through time with him and plunk him in the middle of the Basie or Herman band circa 1945, and everything would be copasetic. That grounding gives Jef an edge. When a band mate makes a passing historical reference, Jef is there with a backward glance even as he pushes the music into the future. Luther Gray is on a different journey, a different search. Quite apparently he’s on a quest to discover the percussion within the percussion. He knows it’s in there somewhere and he pursues the elusive goal relentlessly. I’ve seen him on occasion go through a dozen cymbals changes in one evening. What was he looking for? The same thing he looks for every time he sets up his kit: the percussion within the percussion. And because his search really is a different take on what all profound musicians search for, everyone else in the band is right in there digging in with him. Leader Pandelis Karayorgis is one of a kind, and a host of jazz critics have picked up on that fact. But you watch him play and you don’t care what anyone has said. He plays beyond the words. Yes, words such as “machine” and “computer” come to mind because of the technical facility and the mind-bending originality of his ideas. But those words do not work. Mostly because what ultimately comes out of his piano reaches down to the emotional and psychological core of who we are, often with frightening acumen. And with all that, he is the band leader, the man who was smart enough to put this package of disparate and brilliant musical voices together. The other guys in the band are smart enough to take him up on the challenge. And what about the folks in the audience? We’re the lucky ones...


April 2011


As some readers know, I spent the second half of April and the beginning of May in Europe. As a result, the reviews of April jazz events in the Boston area necessarily are few. But, part of the reason I was in Europe was to help celebrate Peter Brötzmann’s seventieth birthday in his hometown of Wuppertal, Germany. His actual birthday is in March, but Wuppertal arts organizers waited until April to present Peter’s visual art in Galerie Epikur (continuing into June) and a three-day music fest featuring performances by members of the Peter Brötzmann Tentet. Because so many members of the band (including Peter, of course) have a fan following in the Boston area, a few words about the fest (with some photos) may be appropriate.

It is significant that the Tentet is the ensemble involved in the celebration. Gone are the bands that broke ground in the late 1960s in Europe with such giants as Breuker, Bennink, Niebergall, Van Hove, Kowald, and Rutherford. Relatively speaking, this is a new band. Except for the leader, Joe McPhee, and perhaps Johannes Bauer, the band members are children historically. And yet, the band is not merely "young." It is remarkably durable. Next year the Peter Brötzmann Tentet will be fifteen years old. Even more significant, eight of the original ten members--Peter, Mats, Michael, Ken, Jeb, Kent, Joe, and Fred--still are in the ensemble. Paal, Per-Åke, and Hannes are the "latest" additions, bringing the full ten-man ensemble to its typical eleven member size.


I’m sorry to report that, although Johannes Bauer has been with the band for several years, this stretch at Cafe ADA was my first opportunity to catch him in person. Ever. And so it was a particular joy to witness his music in a club and to talk with him. On stage and off Hannes is a force of positive energy and humor. No doubt those qualities are invaluable to other band members in the middle of a grueling tour. During a concert he chooses his moments carefully, offering judicious trombone commentary or brief (or maybe it just seems brief) but pointed solos. Not surprisingly, his duo connections with Jeb Bishop typically are set highlights. When not playing, often Hannes supports the trombone with one hand and "conducts" with the other. He gives the impression of being a Swing Era big band leader, hand flowing as if on a rocking ocean. Of course, he is not conducting anything. His free hand moves in reaction to an invisible flow of motion/sound within the band. In fact, if you want to know when things are really working in the Tentet, keep your eye on Hannes’ free hand.

Johannes Bauer was born in what was then East Germany. Both he and his older brother, Konrad, studied the trombone from the beginning of their music education, never having switched from another instrument. Hannes moved to East Berlin to study music. While there he pursued free improvised music with like-minded other musicians. Discussion of this fact brought up the inevitable question of the difficulties of being a creative musician in communist Germany. Hannes said that there was no problem. Performing the music was illegal, but improvising musicians in general were not bothered by the authorities. "I felt quite free to do what I wanted," he said. I was surprised by his comments. I mentioned that we in the West heard many stories both before and after the wall came down about communist oppression of creative artists in Eastern Europe. As an example I mentioned the fact that Lutosławski’s First Symphony was banned because of a brief bit of dissonance at one point in the work. In response Hannes pointed out the political advantage of performing totally improvised music. "It was written documentation that the authorities were concerned about. People in academia and the conservatories published notated music and dissertations. All of that written material was considered potentially dangerous. If they recorded one of our performances, all they had were notes--nothing you could specify as apparently dangerous." With it all, Hannes seemed quite upbeat about his experiences in East Berlin. Somewhat tongue-in-cheek I pushed the issue, asking him, "Which would you prefer, being in East Berlin then or in Wuppertal here and now?" He understood. Laughing he said, "Here, of course." A man apparently upbeat in almost any circumstance, Hannes then turned happily to dig into his dinner, by all accounts the worst meal any of the band members had in Wuppertal. By the way, Hannes is not the only band member with a sense of humor. Among the others is Michael Zerang. While he was setting up his drums on the first night of the fest (4/21), I asked him if it was difficult performing with a different drum setup on every night of a tour. "No," he said, "My own drum kit is so bad that every gig on the tour I’m spoiled." Obviously, if he hated his drum kit, he’d get a new one. It’s just that, like Hannes, he has the proper attitude for a touring improvising artist.


Of course, the festival was a celebration of Peter Brötzmann. At seventy years old Peter looks healthier than he did more than a decade ago. He seems quite happy (if such a thing is possible for him) in both his personal life and his professional life. And well he should be. His audiences continue to grow as the breadth and depth of his music expand. Typically, he somewhat brusquely dismissed any references I made to his adoring audience and the SRO crowds each night in the sweltering club. Wuppertal was unusually warm during the festival, and I was too warm in a t-shirt in an environment without air conditioning. Band members were more concerned about the "lack of oxygen." And still the musicians played superbly and every night dozens of fans stood in available space at the back of the club through three sets of music (plus encores). Each evening the laconic band leader offered a few words of welcome and thanks in both German and English to fans who showed up from such far-flung nations as England, Poland, and Russia. The best part of the audience was from Peter’s hometown of Wuppertal. As most musicians and some fans know, it is rare for an artist to be appreciated in his hometown (until after the death of that artist). Peter and his band were greeted warmly every night and reactions to the performances ranged from enthusiastically heartfelt to something in the realm of ecstasy. The 4/21 performance featured the great lineup of Michael, Kent, Joe & Peter in the first set, a solo set by Ken, and a closing set by the entire ensemble. The second evening featured two complete sets by the Tentet and encores. The 4/23 offering consisted of sets featuring a trio of Peter, Fred & Paal (a future touring group for some lucky fans), a wonderful solo set by Joe, and a closing full Tentet set with encores. Some people might think that after fifteen years of Tentet touring and recording it probably is time for the band to retire. I can’t imagine anyone who witnessed the music on those three nights posing such a possibility. I’ve been fortunate enough to have witnessed many performances of the band almost from the very first Chicago gigs. The three nights in Wuppertal convinced me of two important and related facts: The current version of the Tentet is the best Peter’s ever had, and the performances were the best Tentet performances I ever witnessed. I suspect the guys have a few more great evenings still ahead of them...

Jeff Platz brought some fine musicians into the Outpost 4/8, and they spent the evening discovering possibilities. There are some folks who live in other cities but nevertheless visit Boston on a somewhat regular basis--annually or more frequently--and a few of them have become Boston area favorites. Daniel Carter is such a musician. He brought a half dozen instruments with him, all reeds except for the trumpet, and became the de facto leader of the band for most of the evening, no doubt a result of Jeff’s deference to the visitor. Carter solos as if he assesses, measures, and weighs each note before he plays it. He hammers it, polishes it, and finally offers it for consideration to band members and audience. Even rapid flurries of notes suggest such a process. And musicians on stage--Jeff, Jef Charland, and Laurence Cook--reacted to encourage him along as well as build their own ideas. Of course, there was much else to enjoy. Jeff and Jef had a knack for creating a single stage-wide string instrument that sung and resonated. At the same time, Jef and Laurence have the ability to lock together so effectively that it makes one wish for a C-C bass-drum duo some day. Although the visitor did set the musical direction for most of the evening, Laurence did make a bashing good final statement to tell us all that the trip was over. Thanks for the ride. In response to the question being asked a this moment by regular readers of this journal, here’s the answer: On 4/8 for the first time I witnessed Laurence Cook for extended periods use two mallets and a drumstick or three mallets simultaneously...

The ICP Orchestra--Mary Oliver, Tristan Honsinger, Ernst Glerum, Michael Moore, Ab Baars, Tobias Delius, Wolter Wierbos, Thomas Heberer, Han Bennink, and Misha Mengelberg--came to town 4/4 and presented a good deal of what we might expect. They gave us some originals, some Monk, and some physical humor. Misha Mengelberg loves the music of Thelonious Monk--that fact offers insight into the ICP leader’s genius--and the group played three Monk tunes ("Misterioso," "Locomotive," and "Jackie-ing") as only they can do them. And there was Han Bennink at his percussive and humorous best. No doubt Tristan Honsinger stole the show theatrically with tongue-in-cheek "conduction," perhaps causing one to consider whether or not some of the early 1970s experimentation with that technique has become overdone or at least a questionable end in itself. But, after all, it is the improvisations of some of the finest soloists Europe has to offer that are the most compelling aspects of ICP performances. It is in that realm that the Paine Hall concert fell short. Relatively little space was given to pure improvisation, and much of that space was devoted to soli rather than solo efforts. For example, it is a joy to hear Mssrs. Moore, Baars, and Delius talk to each other improvisationally. But how much more effective the whole thing would have been if each also were given more opportunity for out-front work to complement the ensemble sounds. But perhaps I quibble. These folks come here so rarely that we should be happy for whatever we get. On the subject of blessings, we were blessed to witness onstage the work of Misha Mengelberg 4/4. Several of us at the concert noted that the pianist seemed to be not merely stoop-shouldered but struggling physically. It was with sadness but not surprise when I heard that Maestro Mengelberg returned home shortly after his visit to Harvard. The rest of the band members completed the tour without him. We wish him quick recovery and continued good health...
There should be some kind of "jazz rule" for the Boston area that says, "If Jacob William puts together a bunch of musicians for a gig, show up." He does seem to have a knack for creating good human chemistry and great sounds. Andy McWain is a keyboardist and music performance entrepreneur who has been active in eastern Massachusetts for years, but he too seldom performs in the Boston area. Here he was, under the auspices of Jacob, shaking up the Outpost 4/9 with the leader, Charlie Kohlhase, and Luther Gray. All of the musicians provided charts--most of them quite compelling--and everyone improvised. Each musician had something unique to say compositionally, and all of them improvised superbly on every composition. Then consider the fact that each band member is a recognized band leader. In other words, Jacob once again brought together strong players who found joy in connecting with other strong players. Most important from the standpoint of the listener is that these musicians succeeded in translating that joy to everyone in the audience...


March 2011


In the February Journal I mentioned what a fine music scene is happening right now in the Boston area. Inman Square 3/9 offered a perfect example of that situation with music at Ryles, a band filled with musicians I love at the Outpost, and the gig I chose to check out at the Lily Pad. Significantly, the wonderful musicians at the Outpost finished their gig and rushed over to the Lily Pad to see if they could get into the gallery before the trio gig ended. Too late unfortunately. The first audience members to depart were walking out the front door as the band members approached the place. And they missed a fine concert. Joe Morris, Nate Wooley, and Paul Lytton were in the middle of a tour when they hit the Lily Pad, and it seemed that they already had worked out some communication strategies. Nate sounded wonderful in spite of the fact that he was carrying a cold with him. I did not even notice until Paul told me about the bug after the gig was over. Joe played guitar (the right choice for this group), and that is always a treat, considering that he performs on bass almost exclusively in the Boston area these days. Of course, European free music pioneer Paul Lytton was the main attraction, both because of his reputation and the rarity of his visits to Boston. He did not disappoint, calling upon all variety of percussion “toys” and extraordinary technical skill to react to and challenge the other members of the trio. And through it all the ears. In spite of everything else in the array of Paul Lytton resources, ultimately it is the ears that impress. It is not merely that he listens and complements or anticipates. Like a Michael Jordan or a Bill Russell who sees the entire court and the flow of the play unfolding so acutely that he can envision the location of players and the ball more than a full second before those elements intersect, Paul Lytton sees and hears the music unfold completely and in a way that transcends time. The result is that he does not merely react effectively, but he anticipates aesthetically to such an extent that he is able to play a pattern and timbre exactly perfect as a context for a note or sequence of notes that have just occurred to a band mate (or band mates). Finally, there was another piece of good news. The SRO audience was transfixed and enthusiastic. It probably is the best post-Ayler music audience I’ve witnessed during the past couple years. It was encouraging to see a large and listening audience in the presence of superb music. However, it raises the question: Where are these people in the galleries and clubs when the current cornucopia takes place other than on 3/9 at the Lily Pad? Maybe they will wake up and check things out...

The U.S. Postal Service has decided to celebrate jazz this month by releasing a special “jazz appreciation” stamp. Even though the promotional write-up perpetuates the myth that jazz began in New Orleans, it’s a fine idea, and you may want to buy some of those stamps as keepsakes or to use when you send letters to your friends--those of you who still send letters or know how to write and/or read words in forms other than online shorthand abbreviations. Here’s the USPS promo piece on the stamp:


Be forewarned, the USPS has a history of issuing stamps later than scheduled. So if your local PO does not have the stamp until June or later, do no be alarmed.

Bostonians have known for years how fine the music of Paul Broadnax can be, and the duo he’s had with Peter Kontrimas has long been a local favorite. So, when you see these guys play, the music always is top shelf. But both men are very open, friendly performers when they are on a break. Both on and off the stage there is an atmosphere of old friends getting together. For example, on the duo’s first break Paul mentioned that he goes on a Caribbean cruise each winter, and over that time he has gotten to know the owners who book the cruise ships. It’s a good friendship. Although well-known jazz musicians perform on the cruise, Paul and Caroline relax on the ship as a break from Paul’s performing. Nevertheless, usually he is called up on stage to sing something by whatever band is playing. It’s a kind of tradition. At one point while he and Caroline were sitting and listening to the music, he was pointed out and asked to stand as everyone in the audience sang “Happy Birthday” (1/27 if you are interested) to him. It was a nice gesture, and the impact was extreme. He told me, “You have no idea what it is like when more than a thousand people sing happy birthday to you!” That kind of human element always is there, but it never lets you forget the music. And so it was on 3/16 when, among many superb moments from both of them, Peter was playing time and again the best bass solos I’ve ever heard from him. And that’s after hearing a ton of fine Kontrimas solos over the years...

Fans of the music may know that Ornette Coleman was 81 years old on 3/19. He had a birthday party a few days early, and former Prime Time keyboardist and local band leader Dave Bryant was there. Click on Dave’s Facebook page for images of Ornette, Dave, Bern Nix, Denardo, Al MacDowell, and others...

Speaking of birthdays, Peter Brötzmann’s 70th birthday is this month (3/6). But his hometown of Wuppertal is celebrating the master musician in April with a three-day fest (4/21-23) at Cafe ADA and an exhibit of his visual art (4/9-6/18) at Galerie Epikur. The music festival will feature his Tentet and smaller groups including such artists as Joe McPhee, Mats Gustafsson, Hannes Bauer, Michael Zerang, Per-Åke Holmlander, Fred Lonberg-Holm, and others of note. For a look at the exhibit catalogue click here...

It was a brilliant idea--one I certainly had not thought of--to bring together guitar, cello, and trombone, but even more so the idea of those instruments being played by Kevin Frenette, Junko Simons, and Tom Plsek. Applause for Junko to think of it and make it happen. These three musicians listen and work together at an extraordinary level. Kevin is so good at making musicians and fans listen for the detail, to a great extent because his loudest moments are approximately 5 within the standard guitar range of 11. Tom is an antidote to the common practice of empty deconstruction of wind instruments in new music. Yes, every time one scans the bandstand and returns one’s eyes to Tom, the trombone is in a different state of component relationships. But what is different about Tom is that he deconstructs both the horn and the music to the purpose of enhancing the movement and shape of the group’s music. The interaction of these instruments as played by these three musicians results in remarkable music. And they seemed to revel in that fact as they performed together for the first time. They spent the first half of the first set “discovering” each other in that specific context. From the beginning of the second set and throughout all of it the trio presented some startlingly beautiful music. I was left with the feeling that this trio’s musical potential is virtually limitless...

I had just purchased the Naxos DVD of Anita O’Day in Scandinavia and was sitting back to take in the music 3/3. I was not in a good mood and hoped the new DVD would help. Both sets of music occurred a few years after her career was “reborn” as a result of the strong reaction to her performance in the film, Jazz on a Summer’s Day. O’Day is not as great a jazz vocalist as Billie Holiday or Betty Carter, but she’s one of a handful at the very top of the pinnacle. She’s a much-copied innovator and the genuine article. I don’t intend to do a review of the DVD here, but it may be useful to say that, if you are an Anita O’Day fan, you will like the DVD, and if you don’t like her work, this DVD will not change your mind. But it was an interesting period musically for her. She was a jazz musician, but, like most jazz vocalists, Anita O’Day had her shtick--her arranged moments that were plugged in to help insure the momentum of the song she was working on. So, for example, it is informative to see that by 1961 (in Sweden at least) she had abandoned the Marlboro cigarette jingle as a component of the conclusion of her version of “Tea for Two.” Nevertheless, in these two sets she walks a narrow line between self-imitation and calling up the essence of her unique take on a vocal. It’s a tough line to walk, and (unlike the self-imitative Ben Webster during the last dozen years or so of his life), she generally is quite successful in avoiding Anita O’Day doing Anita O’Day.

But, as I sat there listening, I was affected by my nasty mood. It struck me that--particularly among the vocalists who appear on the covers of “popular” jazz magazines and at the major festivals--so-called jazz vocalists today really are pop or cabaret singers. I have nothing against the great pop singers--Bennett and Sinatra among them--or the great cabaret singers--particularly Mabel Mercer and Bobby Short--and I love their work. But they are not jazz singers (and never pretended to be). So what does Anita O’Day have that the current celebrated so-called jazz singers don’t have? Jazz. It’s very simple. Anita O’Day and the other jazz greats IMPROVISE. One of the nice things about the Naxos DVD is that you can witness her do different versions of the same songs (and still different from the Jazz on a Summer’s Day versions). But it isn’t just a matter of evolving arrangements. The improvisations are different also. And with all that, one key aspect of her presentation is that she is a trooper. Superficially, being a trooper has nothing to do with jazz. But professionalism is central to any human pursuit that matters. Just watch her cruise along as if everything is copasetic as she faces a Swedish audience that consists almost exclusively of the population of the mock Rock Ridge in Blazing Saddles. Impressive jazz (or anything) thrives in professionalism. Finally--and this is somewhat elusive but critical--she is a horn. Yes, I know about the cliché that the best horn players sound like vocalists and the best vocalists sound like horns. But listen to her horn playing--particularly on the 1963 session in which the audio engineering is superior to that of the more recent set--and think about her voice as a REAL jazz instrument. Jazz vocalists (the good ones) tend to be reed family “instruments.” Think Benny Goodman, Lester Young, and Albert Ayler. Anita O’Day, of course, is a tenor saxophone. Listen to the hornlike way in which she caresses a gliss at just the perfect point of impact. I’m almost reluctant to mention these things because some wunderkinder vocalist now will run with this information, doing painful impressions of jazz instruments.

And all of my complaints came out of a mood caused by the resignation of James Levine at the BSO. I realize that the problems had lasted too long. There really was no alternative. But the loss does sting like a death. “Death” is not such a far-fetched word in this case. What Levine started here is more than remarkable. And his mission remains incomplete, stillborn. Nevertheless, the beginning of it all was stunning. We got to hear on a regular basis the greatest music of the past century--and performed superbly. Those performances--regardless of one’s musical tastes--were the most important achievement. There was a period before the final onslaught of physical ailments when the orchestra probably was the finest in the world. It is difficult to imagine just how great the orchestra might have become. And now it is all over. But not quite. The carrion crows are with us still. All variety of “music fans” on the internet (fortunately a small minority of them) say good riddance to Maestro Levine. And Lloyd Schwartz, the best “classical” music critic in town and a long-time supporter of Levine, made the mistake of going on the Greater Boston TV show (3/4) to discuss the departure. It was a set-up: two electronic media people against a print media guy on TV (an electronic medium). To his credit Schwartz remained civilized, even though he was confronted by two adversaries whose deafness to quality music was exceeded only by their confidence. As it has been suggested here before, Greater Boston host Emily Rooney has the aesthetic discernment of a backhoe. And radio “pundit” Avi Nelson apparently “loves” music. He claimed that he has been a BSO regular for thirty years and saw no improvement in the orchestra under Levine’s leadership. One wonders what Mr. Nelson does while in the audience at Symphony Hall. Listen to his iPod?

Now the BSO management team (Board of Directors?) must come up with a replacement for the departing Maestro Levine. Most knowledgeable observers agree that it will take months and perhaps years to find a replacement, particularly given the fact that the best conductors in the world typically have commitments to other orchestras for years to come. It is assumed that the most respected conductors--such as Boulez and Barenboim--either would not be interested in the job or would be “too old” to tackle the responsibilities. In fact, somewhat ironically, apparently age has become a major factor in the selection. One of the problems with Levine, the experts claim, is that he is too old for the job. He’s 67 years old, merely mid-life for most conductors. Yes, Levine has had a string of physical ailments, but hardly any of them have to do with age per se. For example, as Sean Kerrigan in the 3/11 issue of the Boston Phoenix points out, all the respected conductors who pitched in to help during the transition years of 2002-2004 with the exception of Frühbeck de Burgos (who’s 77) are at least 81 years old. Conductors are among the most long-lived people. Nevertheless, it is likely that the powers that be at the BSO will go for youth. Doing so is the “in” thing these days, with relatively young conductors recently hired at orchestras in Los Angeles, Philadelphia, and elsewhere. Perhaps the best-known of the youngsters is Alan Gilbert in New York. He’s been wowing them in the Apple, and there are many things about his performances that make people such as myself optimistic. But, to use a baseball analogy, hitting a home run in your first major league at-bat does not a season--or career--make. Regardless of such realities, we can expect a parade of youngsters--young men--taking the podium in Symphony Hall during the next many months.

Because I was watching and listening to Anita O’Day as I thought about Levine’s departure, the image of those young men brought to mind one of the singer’s best recorded efforts. The song has nothing to do with symphony orchestras or art in any way, but some of the words seemed to ring true anyway:

All the sad young men
Drifting through town
Drinking up the night
Trying not to drown

Singing in the cold...
Choking on their youth
Trying to be brave
Running from the truth

Misbegotten moon
Shining for sad young men
Let your gentle light
Guide them home again.

And as we observe the podium parade, maybe we can look back with thanks. We may not be able to prevent the passing of a profound cultural blessing, but we should note its passing and celebrate its significance as a process of hope, perhaps paving the way for a tomorrow beyond our present imaginings.
4/8 Update: In 2010 I attended a fine performance of Lulu at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. I had purchased the tickets with the hope and understanding that James Levine would be the conductor. Due to physical problems, Maestro Levine did not conduct the opera. Although Fabio Luisi did a fine job, the impact of the performance was not up to what I would have expected under the leadership of James Levine. When the 2011 schedule was published I noticed that Wozzeck, a Berg work that I like even more than Lulu, would be performed. After my disappointment in 2010 I was reluctant to put up the time, money, and effort necessary to take a chance on Wozzeck. Nevertheless, I rolled the dice. After James Levine resigned from the BSO this year I thought I probably would be a two-time loser. Even on the day of the performance the 4/6 program booklet with Maestro Levine specified as the conductor was not a great comfort. When James Levine took the podium it was obvious from the applause that I was not the only one in the theater happy and relieved to witness his return. And return he did. The Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 Wozzeck was amazing. It may be the last time I’ll ever have a chance to witness him lead a band that he made great. So I relished it. I am familiar with the 2005 broadcast of the work under Levine; it is so good I became convinced at that time that the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra is the finest orchestra in the world—exhibiting virtuosic solo and ensemble work. This time the orchestra was even better, even though it does not seem possible. I thought that perhaps I was affected by witnessing the music in person. Music usually is better in person. But, if Anthony Tommasini of the New York Times is to be believed, this was a better production. Levine is gone from Boston, and this production emphasizes even more what a loss his departure is. On the other hand, he does not look well. He remained at the podium after the conclusion of the performance to receive applause (rather than climb to the stage). Although I doubt that I ever will witness him (or anyone else) conduct an orchestra operating at that level again, I hope someone finds an answer for his ailments so that at least Met fans can keep experiencing such a great orchestra. Anyone interested in reading Mr. Tommasini’s review of the performance can click here...

If the Alternate Universe Quintet is from an alternate universe, that’s where I want to be. The enthusiastic crowd at the Outpost 3/26 seemed to feel that way also. It certainly is difficult to top an ensemble consisting of Forbes Graham, Allan Chase, Steve Lantner, Joe Morris (bass this time), and Laurence Cook, particularly when musicians of such disparate artistic sensibilities are so good at finding a common ground aesthetically, always overlapping at the very heart of what the music is about. The group is a perfect model for would-be improvising ensembles to pay attention to. I don’t know how many post-Ayler groups I’ve seen during the past couple years--here and elsewhere--dissolve and get lost for lack of arc and focus in what they do. For some reason, a lot of those groups--whether they work with heads and then take it out or operate as completely improvised bands--make the mistake of approaching the music as if it were architecturally a bebop band. Genuinely different forms of music require different architectures and different languages. All successful post-Ayler music to some extent incorporates Ornette Coleman’s harmolodic architecture and language. The “bebop” approach to post-Ayler music presents a sequence of solos--”everybody has a turn”--with rhythm section support. Even bands that don’t apparently want to do that seem to fall into the trap. The new music requires an architecture in which everybody is soloing simultaneously. Yes, there may be someone (the pianist, for example) who subjectively is in the foreground. But that’s a wonderful sonic illusion of balanced architecture and language. Everyone in the band pushes the piano, in that example, into the foreground, but no one stops working on his own improvisation as strongly as ever. It never is soloist with rhythm section. In the case of the quintet, it is a pentagon with a musician at each point, soloing. And each point is connected by sonic lines within the pentagon to all the other musicians in the group. At any given moment the statements of one or more of those points/soloists may be emphasized--both by the emphasizing musician(s) and the rest of the band members--more than those of the other points/soloists, but all the musicians are soloing. Even in situations in which one or more soloists are silent. In that case the participation is silent participation, working with rests and ears. It would be difficult to imagine a better example of post-Ayler ensemble playing than the Alternate Universe Quintet, as the great applause at the end of the evening would attest. Yes, I know that among regular readers of this journal, there is a question. Here’s the answer: On 3/26 for the first time I witnessed Laurence Cook for extended periods throughout the evening use three drumsticks simultaneously...

February 2011

February has been a month of cancelled gigs. We’ve experienced some of the worst snow seen in decades. Now we are trying to recover. Let’s hope those cancelled gigs become postponed gigs so that they are delayed rather than lost... I was sitting in the Outpost 2/26 listening to and marveling at the Steve Lantner Quartet, observing how each musician knows what to say, when to shut up, and how to project a strong personality while helping buoy and push the entire group. It was “just another” marvelous day at the office for a truly remarkable jazz ensemble--Steve, Allan Chase, Joe Morris, and Luther Gray. The thought occurred to me that this outstanding group is both contributing to and symptomatic of our time in Boston. Then I told myself that perhaps it’s a good time to take stock of things. I say that because it has struck me more than once during the past couple years that the quality--and the quantity of that quality--of new music in town is extraordinary. By “new music” I’m not talking about a particular style or genre of jazz or other improvised music. I’m talking about music with a strong personal (group and/or individual) stamp that may build on the work of predecessors (and what music doesn’t?) but incorporates ideas, sounds, or directions that are original. It‘s the kind of music that Louis and Bix were making in 1925, Basie and Goodman were making in 1936, Parker and Gillespie were making in the early 1940s, Coltrane and Monk were making in the late 1950s, and Ayler and Taylor were making in the early 1960s. Not the style or genre of any of that music, but rather the originality and forward-thinking perspective that always has personified the best in the music.

Although I know something about jazz in Boston going back to the beginning of the twentieth century, my personal experience in this town begins in the late 1960s. And my involvement in the scene did not really take off until the mid-1970s. So my understanding of the roller-coaster ups and downs of the music here (and elsewhere, for that matter) is a combination of reading, hearsay, and personal experience. Nevertheless, I think I have a reasonable understanding of the high and low points in the history of jazz in Boston. For example, “everyone” knows that the 1950s was the best time for jazz in Boston. The clubs were numerous and bursting with high-quality music. Although I’m not so sure that things were significantly better than the 1920s and 1930s (or even a good as during those earlier decades), there is some truth to that assertion. There definitely was a lot happening then in Boston (and in almost any other major city in the U.S.) during the 1950s. It also is true that no decade since the 1950s has come close to that level of positive activity. During my time of witnessing the music here, using the same type of measures to assess the quality of the jazz scene in general prior to my arrival here, without question the 1980s was the decade of the best jazz activity. As in the case of all previous decades, there were problems. And there were some years or months or weeks that were better/worse than others. For example, do not get too nostalgic for the 1930s. The jazz scene may have been terrific, but there was a depression happening (and that certainly from time to time put a damper on the “booming” jazz scene). The 1950s had its problems as well. For example, it was a racially open music in which (even in the North) racism still was alive and sick (not that the Obama victory has changed everything today). And the drug activity was rampant.

And so the 1980s did have its problems. Sitting at a bar on a break, it was common to hear any variety of complaints from jazz musicians about working conditions or the lack of gigs. In fact, my memory of that time is that there was more complaining from musicians during the 1980s than there is now. I have a feeling that (although certainly conditions are worse for jazz musicians today than in he 1980s), jazz musicians and other improvisors today are more realistic about conditions. Today it is a rare jazz musician who expects to make a living doing nothing but playing jazz. Nevertheless, considering all aspects of a jazz scene (however one may define them), the 1980s was a boom time for jazz in Boston with clubs coming and going but always coming, fairly large audiences, hordes of visiting jazz giants from New York and Europe on a regular basis, and some fine local jazz ensembles that could challenge the best groups anywhere. And, although most of the bands performing at that time were not particularly great, the number of bands defining themselves as “jazz” or “improvising” bands was greater than the number of such bands today.

I mention how great the 1980s were as a wonderful time for jazz in Boston for a reason. Although, if one compares that time with the jazz scene today, the 1980s were a better period for jazz than today in virtually every respect--except one. At no time during that decade could the Boston scene challenge today’s scene (for approximately the past year and a half) specifically regarding the quantity of the quality of new music being performed. The word quantity is the key. Certainly there were great local bands (with strong personal stamps) during the 1980s. For example, what a joy it was to witness on a regular basis the music of the James Williams all-star gigs, Lowell Davidson, and Raphé Malik. But the quantity of music of that quality today is much greater than in the 1980s. Also, keep in mind that some of the most influential bands of the time--such as The Fringe and Dave Bryant’s groups--still are hammering away at the music in Boston right now.

Let me offer an example of what I mean. Obviously the example is a bit loaded. But what is most amazing is that it is not much of an exaggeration, if at all. During a recent ten-day period (2/17-26) there were many fine jazz gigs in town, but here are just a few of the better gigs in which you could find a strong personal stamp and ear-stretching music at the highest level:

-The Outnumbered (2/17) led by visiting Jason Robinson but filled with our own guys.
-Junko Simons (2/19) with Charlie Kohlhase and Laurence Cook.
-Video man Emile Tobenfeld (2/20) showing off Luther Gray, Jim Hobbs, and Junko Simons.
-Pandelis Karayorgis (2/21) with his extraordinary System of 5 ensemble.
-The Trumpet and electronics duo of Forbes Graham and Andrew Neumann (2/23).
-The visiting William Hooker and Ed Ricart (2/24) making music with three Bostonians.
-Eric Zinman, Jacob William, and Laurence Cook improvising (2/25).
- The Steve Lantner Quartet (2/26) making timeless music.

That’s eight qualitatively through-the-roof gigs employing Boston-based people with strong identities who do not want to re-do what’s been done. And it’s going on right now in Boston. If you think the list or the idea is an exaggeration of reality, check out what’s happening at the clubs. Or take a look a couple times each week at the Scheduled Highlights of this web page.

For now, here’s a look at some of the gigs and related events that took place in February.

The first incarnation of the Outnumbered (2008) had no bass player. More recently leader Jason Robinson decided to add that instrument to the group. But the original plan fell through; so in effect Bruno Råberg became a “substitute” bass player in a group that originally was intended to work without a bass. What a brilliant stroke the change is. If he’s a sub, every group needs a sub. Bruno did not merely work well with the band, he carried and challenged and improvised as if this were the last opportunity he ever would have to participate in creating brilliant group music. Yes, I have been lucky enough to witness his work many times before, but lightning was striking all evening long from that bass. I sat there thinking, “Some people want a larger TV screen in their homes. Some want a large well-equipped wet bar. The wish I have to make my home move up a level would be to have Bruno show up once a week and practice in my living room.” Because I know that you play what you practice, and Bruno plays, really plays. After coming down to earth a bit, of course, I saw that what Bruno was doing could not have happened if fellow Bostonians Charlie Kohlhase, Josh Rosen, and Curt Newton were not throwing things at him, challenging him, daring him to push harder—as they were pushing harder. What a heck of a night. And most of the accolades must go to Jason Robinson. He brought these guys together and challenged them with generosity and direction. He spread the charts around--his music, theirs, even guys not present. He gave everyone plenty of solo space out of sheer confidence. And he came to play, and he made sure everyone in the group came to play. As readers know by now, I have a bias on behalf of “live” music over recorded music. And that may have something to do with my reaction to the 2/17 gig at the Lily Pad. But the effect could not occur, for example, merely by seeing what appeared to be Paul Motian’s cap on Curt’s head. No, the music happening on that night was to my ears even better than the generally fine recording by other musicians (highly respected ones, I might add) under the leadership of Robinson. Yes, as in the case of the recording, there were times when the playing got a little bit too cerebral (hey, this is supposed to be jazz!), but those instances on 2/17 tended to be wonderfully brief bypasses rather than troublesome stretches in the road. At the Lily Pad there were no troublesome stretches, just troublesome thoughts that it might be quite a while before this Left-Coaster (via Amherst) will be back here with this group to challenge our ears and hearts again...

I saw Naked Lunch at the Brattle on 2/5. It was the second time I’ve seen it in a theater, and it makes more sense now, particularly because I’m more familiar with the thinking and writing of William Burroughs than when the film came out. It’s not a great film, but it is interesting. Maybe I would have enjoyed it more if the print were better. It was very noisy visually and sonically. That certainly makes the experience difficult. One of the things I had forgotten is that Ornette Coleman is not mentioned in the opening credits; it says simply that the music is by Howard Shore. The closing credits tell us that Ornette, Denardo Coleman, and Barre Phillips performed on the sound track. One of the effects of the noisy print is that the music of Howard Shore mostly got buried in the noise, but Ornette’s horn (and to some extent the work of Denardo Coleman and Barre Phillips) came through fairly consistently. Given the work of Shore, the theater experience probably is better with the noisy print. I’m guessing what I saw was not the only shabby print of Naked Lunch that’s around these days. So, if you want to hear how great the music is, you’ll just have to buy the CD...

Luther Gray brought a group he calls Ultraseven to the Outpost 2/4, and it certainly is ultra-something. One of the first things that hits you when you consider the makeup of the band--Matt Langley, Andy Voelker, Charlie Kohlhase, Junko Simons, Jacob William, Pandelis Karayorgis, and Luther--is that these folks have not played a gig together before. I never even asked Luther whether they’d already been together. So, maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it. Oh, yeah, certain people (such as Charlie and Matt who have a decades-long relationship) have been on the bandstand together, but this entire combination has not worked together before. And when was the last time you saw Andy and Junko perform together? I’d guess never. That fact is a pretty good indication of the searching nature of Luther’s music. These people played his charts, and he decided which combination he wanted on the bandstand. The impact was terrific. For example, we know that one of the key reasons Charlie and Matt have kept up their musical relationship is that consistently they think differently in ways that create genuine surprises in performance. Then throw in Andy--no doubt arriving from Mars--and the saxophone conversation will lift you out of your seat. If that isn’t enough, take the mutually familiar Junko and Jacob throwing things at Pandelis (who joyously throws other, completely different ideas back at them), and all you need is some “simple,” tricky charts and envelope-pushing percussion from the leader, and audience members find themselves in “a fine mess.” Laurels to Luther and the band; previous ensemble outings of Luther have hardly come close to what happened with Ultraseven. Encore...

Milton Babbitt passed away 1/29 and there was not enough thunder when that event occurred. His accomplishments on behalf of so-called “classical” music were extraordinary as a writer, teacher, theorist, computer/electronics pioneer, and--primarily--composer. While his brilliant mind was at the root of his ability to teach both music and mathematics simultaneously at Princeton for a stretch, it created problems for him. Jealous “colleagues” made his life difficult, and his doctoral thesis describing his extension of Schoenberg’s twelve tone system failed to result in a degree because the mathematical principles he included in the work were too far beyond the understanding of the assessment committee. (Yes, I know. You are almost shocked.) Forty-six years later Princeton admitted the mistake and gave him the doctorate in 1992. With all of this his primary accomplishments are in the realm of composed music. Nevertheless, he deserves mention here as an ally of jazz throughout his life. He spent his early life as a musician (clarinet and sax), primarily in bands as a teenager, facing the challenge of feeding the dance floor with whatever would cause the crowd to dance. According to Allan Kozinn of the New York Times, in a Music Box interview Babbitt claimed, “I grew up playing every kind of music in the world... We had to imitate Jan Garber one night; we had to imitate Jean Goldkette the next night... We played for a country club dance one night and for a high school dance the next.” At the Composers Conference in 1994 in Wellesley I had the pleasure of listening to Milton Babbitt talk about the quality of the musicianship of the pop and jazz bands of his youth compared to the pop music of today. He raved about the reading ability and discipline of the members of the bands of Boyd Raeburn and Benny Goodman. He pointed out that there always had been a close link between jazz and classical musicians, recalling as an example Bill Evans’ commute to New Jersey to find just the right piano for practicing Schoenberg's Opus 19. In a tribute to jazz the composer wrote All Set specifically for the jazz instrumentation of tenor sax, trumpet, trombone, vibes, piano, bass, and drums.

Milton Babbitt had great respect for the ears of jazz musicians. My favorite Babbitt jazz anecdote from the Conference involved Vido Musso. Mel Powell (an even better jazz musician/arranger than classical composer) was with the Goodman band at the time. He told Babbitt about the fact that almost every time the band was ready to rehearse a brand new Eddie Sauter arrangement, Musso would excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Some band members who did not realize the difficulty Musso had reading the charts were puzzled by his departures. Over time and with close observation they discovered that he could hear the band from the bathroom. Musso used that opportunity to listen to the first runthrough of the piece so he could hear what his part was. Then he would be in his chair for the second runthrough and play his part perfectly. Milton Babbitt admired those ears. He was a great raconteur and a warm human. The fact that he was one of the great composers of the second half of the century who happened to love jazz, beer, and baseball only makes his loss that much more profound...

I’ve mentioned in a previous journal that never a Laurence Cook gig goes by without my witnessing Laurence do something I’d never seen him do before. The surprise of these activities is essential to their nature. And so it was 2/12 at the Outpost. He showed up with an unusual (for him, at least) number of cymbals on cymbal stands, seven in all. That was something of a surprise. But the real surprise occurred in the middle of one of the group improvisations. He stopped playing the drums. Then he picked up a spare cymbal, looking very much as if he were intending to replace one of the largest of the seven cymbals. Fine. But then he hesitated, as if he were going to unscrew a cymbal’s wing nut to remove it so he could put the replacement cymbal in place. Instead Laurence took the “replacement” cymbal and used it to strike two different cymbals to produce a sequence of cymbal-on-cymbal sounds. Having done that, he put the “replacement” cymbal down and continued to push things along with his sticks. It is worth noting that, during the entire process, at no time did the momentum of the music flag. That’s part of why Laurence Cook is unique. You want more? At the end of the evening when it was decided to play one more piece, Laurence said, “Let’s close with some Gershwin. ‘My Man’s Gone Now’.” He then began the offering with a statement of the tune on the kit (devoid of the actual melody, of course), phrasing the words on the kit as he went along before everyone else joined him to go somewhere else musically. As you can guess, Laurence’s contributions to the music 2/12 were sufficient reason to be at the gig. But there was more, significantly more. Jacob William has put together this group known as the Para Quintet (including the leader, Laurence, Forbes Graham, Jim Hobbs, and Steve Lantner), and the wisdom in that selection was evident. The musicians are among my favorites, and so I expect fine things from each of them. But something else is going on in that group. The sum is truly greater than the parts. Yes, they work really well together. But, even more impressive, on 2/12 each performer consistently performed all evening at a level equal to or greater than I had witnessed before. Typically if one or two musicians shine particularly brightly, that’s a significant night. I guess there needs to be a word to describe what it means when everybody outshines himself. For now I’ll settle for the word, Para...

Some people may wonder, “What is it this time?” It’s not as if I’m trying to document the things I observe Laurence Cook doing that I’ve never witnessed before. That would take up too much of my time, and it’s not the main point. I mention those “firsts” merely as a hint of the man’s originality. It’s a reflection of that originality rather than the heart of it. For example, on 2/19 at the Outpost just before the set started, Laurence picked up a harmonica and played approximately two seconds of sounds on it and then put the instrument down. I never had seen him make a sound with a harmonica before, and he never touched the harmonica for the rest of the evening. Is the harmonica event something that may offer insight into Laurence Cook the musician? Perhaps. Is the incident something that provides insight into the profundity of Laurence Cook the musician? No. No single sentence--nor even a single review of a gig--could provide such insight. And certainly the fact that he chose not to pursue the instrument for the rest of the evening fails to provide such insight. But something else, while less than completely satisfactory, may provide a little insight into what he means to a band.

Laurence Cook was part of a trio of fine musicians on 2/19. The catch is that the trio--Laurence, Junko Simons, and Charlie Kohlhase--never had worked together before. There is a kind of mythology about improvising musicians, namely that the really good ones get together and naturally make extraordinary music. After all, that’s what they do, spontaneous music. Nonsense. No, it does not work that way. Sometimes the greatest improvising musicians get together and maybe the music works for only five minutes out of the whole evening. Or maybe not once during the whole evening. For example, maybe you remember when Sonny Rollins came to town with the Milestone Jazzstars (including Tyner, Carter, and Foster) in 1978. I showed up assuming it would be impossible for these guys to create anything but stellar music together. However, nothing of any consequence occurred until the encore. That’s not a shot at those fine musicians. Rather, it’s the opposite. If it can happen to them, it can happen to anyone. And so we return to the Outpost on 2/19 and the three fine musicians facing off in an attempt to make wonderful sounds. Initially the attempt was valiant but unrewarding. For some reason--it’s always that “some reason”--things never gelled. All three of them were trying, but the ship just was not leaving the dock. Fascinating but frustrating. Then Laurence tried bashing. He brought up the volume and just bashed his way through some invisible sonic wall and brought Junko and Charlie with him. From that point on everything seemed to come together. It was exactly the right thing to do at the right time. I have no idea why it worked. It was not an act of desperation (and I’ve seen that kind of thing before). No, it was a focussed charge into “another structural realm,” and that realm turned out to be the right place for those three musicians on that night and in that venue. Yes, he could have done that, and it could have failed. But it didn’t. Junko and Charlie heard something in that realm and reacted as the best musicians do. The rest of the evening was superb. Of course, it makes one wonder whether or not this freesome threesome could locate that sonic realm in another time/place in the future...

As far as new music is concerned, some may say that chord changes are dead. But, for example, such band leaders as Eric Hofbauer and Garrison Fewell fight that current--and convincingly so. And if you want further convincing, you can find no better example than Pandelis Karayorgis’ System of 5. The first time I caught System of 5 (although I don’t believe the quintet had that name yet) I wrote in Cadence, “This is the real deal.” Here it is a couple years later, and I finally got to witness the band’s music again. Everything I said then remains true. This band--Pandelis, Matt Langley, Jeff Galindo, Jef Charland, and Luther Gray--blew me away again 2/21 at the Lily Pad for the very same reasons I specified in the magazine review. But, of course, it was not the same. Most (if not all) of the charts were different from the ones on that first outing. And I think the band has grown since then. (Maybe it’s just my ears that have grown.) For example, the power of the connection between arrangement and improvisational freedom is even more apparent to me now. As I pointed out in my last review of this quintet, the arrangements are non-standard; some might say intricate. The musicians really have to be on the ball to keep track of things. Because of that fact, one might guess that there would be an overriding pressure on all concerned during a set of music. Perhaps it’s ironic, but the opposite appears to be true. A terrific combination of arrangement, sidemen attitude, and leadership (i.e., “Let the horses loose!”) has resulted in some of the most freewheeling adventuresome improvising I’ve heard from any band in recent years. I listen to and watch this band and I’m aware of experiencing the excitement I felt when I first heard Miles on Columbia Records in the mid-1950s or Raphé Malik at the Willow in the late 1980s. This is take-no-prisoners music, and the lucky ones will die--to catch System of 5 in person. If you are reading this outside the sound of my voice, pick up the group’s hatOLOGY CD for a taste (and crank up the volume)...


January 2011


It was kind of odd. Four experienced, top-notch musicians not quite getting off the ground until near the end of the first set. Sluggish. But I am glad I hung around for the second set. The group balance problems disappeared with a boost in the guitar amp (of course, I hate to imply that boosting a guitar amp ever is a good idea, but it was in this case), and the communications that showed signs of hope as the first set wound down really took off. It’s as if everyone in the band woke up and realized they were having the time of their lives. It sure seemed that way when Luther Gray, Andy Voelker, Steve Fell, and Jef Charland found their group voice 1/13 and tore through some new material as if it all was as simple as breathing. It was the music I was hoping for when I walked in the door. Now I’m looking forward to more...

Last year was a pretty good one for jazz fans who are into sonic documentation. No doubt the Savory Collection is an important trove. But wait. There’s more. Universal Music Group has left 200,000 78-RPM disks (most apparently in mint condition) to the Library of Congress. For more information, click here...

Jokingly I suggested to Jef Charland and Luther Gray at their 1/13 gig that they should get a couple cots and sleep over in Inman Square for their 1/14 gig, rather than go home. Of course, they did not think that was such a terrific idea. But the back-to-back nights of playing is typical of their ubiquitous contributions in venues in the Boston area. Sometimes people into the arts (such as myself) cynically believe that it is only junk that is ubiquitous in the so-called art world. But people such as Luther and Jef dash such thoughts time and again. In fact, perhaps ironically, most of the best jazz musicians tend to play the most frequently. And that fact is not unique to Boston. So here they were again, this time playing at the Lily Pad with one of the most important jazz pianists working anywhere today, Pandelis Karayorgis. They played music by all three musicians and even one by Monk (no surprise, of course), and all of it was thoroughly challenging to an almost packed house. It was nearly as enjoyable witnessing the genuine enthusiasm of the crowd as it was to catch these guys nail the music. What they do is show the possibilities of a piano trio at its best. And they do it every time. Before I left the gallery I hung around to catch the first tune of a set by a duo named Ronald Reagan (saxophonists/vocalists Alec Spiegelman and Kelly Roberge). Even though both musicians are known for their jazz work, what I witnessed of this outing was thoroughly composed/arranged. The name of the duo indicates something of the nature of what they do--tongue-in-cheek versions of 1980s pop hits by the likes of Madonna, Toto, et al. Even though these guys are not doing jazz, they are good at what they do. The arrangements are clever (in the best sense) and tricky to pull off, and they pull them off with a breeze (adding to the humor of what they do). Is Ronald Reagan any good? I don’t know. I was laughing too hard to see and hear everything they were doing. Finally I did manage to drag myself reluctantly out of the Lily pad after the third number...

The February issues (published in January) of two of the more popular jazz monthlies contain a couple items particularly relevant to the Boston area. First (and congrats again) JazzTimes includes an article celebrating the 25th anniversary of Either/Orchestra. Second, Downbeat has a feature listing the 150 best jazz clubs in the U.S. Several of the better-known venues among the dozens in the Boston area are included. As most fans know, Inman Square is the most important center in the Boston area for live jazz and other improvised music. Three important places offer music several nights each week. Given that fact, why was the Outpost the only Inman Square venue not listed? Strange...

JazzBoston held its annual Appreciation Party at Ryles 1/31. Each year the JB leadership invites its members, jazz musicians, and jazz support people (i.e., leaders of jazz support groups, jazz media people, etc.) to a “thank you” party for their efforts on behalf of the music. The fact that they invited jazz musicians is the best part of the celebration. Unfortunately it is common for leaders of jazz support groups to get strained tendons in their arms from patting themselves on the back, often at the expense of the music/musicians. After all, it’s about the musicians or it’s a waste of time. One particularly fine aspect of this year’s celebration was a special salute to Steve Schwartz, the man behind WGBH-FM’s successes in the past and one of the key people in the successful fight to keep jazz programming on that station at a time when the “classical” music programming was gutted. Jazz fans may not know it, but there were two major radio stations in town with significant hours of “classical” music programming. Now all of that programming has been dumped onto one station, WCRB-FM, cutting off a significant listener base and dropping completely one of the weekly live BSO broadcasts...