Reframings (2)

 

Last time out, then, I had a (very) quick look at a couple of albums - one already released, one forthcoming - which re-examine specific Braxton compositions in different ways. This post is a little different: I'm focusing on two tracks wherein contemporary figures within the creative music scene have taken "quotes" from B's pieces, and worked them into their own compositions. (Both tracks are available to be streamed on Youtube - and doubtless in other places too.)

1. Taylor Ho Bynum / 9-tette, from The Ambiguity Manifesto (2019)

We're considering here the second-longest piece on the album, track four, "(G)Host(AA/AB)*". The band is an expanded version of THB's long-running sextet, all of whom had extensive experience of playing with him by this point: Jim Hobbs,  Bill Lowe, Mary Halvorson, Ken Filiano, Tomas Fujiwara. The additional players were not exactly strangers either: Ingrid Laubrock, Tomeka Reid and Stomu Takeishi. That little lot certainly constitutes a "host" of sorts; but if the identity of "AA" was not already pretty obvious, the designation "(G)Host" makes it fully clear that it's Albert Ayler. As for AB, well: Bynum likes his books as well as his music - another piece on this album is dedicated to Ursula K. Le Guin - so it could be a reference to Ambrose Bierce or Algernon Blackwood, or... for that matter, it could be a reference to Dutch reedman Ab Baars; but, you know, it isn't**. 

The way the piece seems to work - I have nothing go on here besides my own interpretation - is that the group channels Ayler's influence first, then B's later on - although it isn't quite that simple. But for now, let's run with that: the first few minutes of the piece are characterised by droning sounds from the lower voices, accompanied in increasingly frenzied fashion by skronks and squawks from the two sax players, and rattling drums and skittering cymbals - Ayler is not really quoted (or not in any way that I could recognise - there certainly is no hint of the sing-song, almost nursery-rhyme themes which he favoured) so much as the ecstatic nature of his music is invoked. - And, of course, the idea of a wild group interplay (far from unique to Ayler, but associated with him nonetheless) is present here too. Around 6:30, most of the players suddenly fall silent as the powerful drone from the bass instruments continues; over this, the guitar and electric bass begin to sketch out a rubato figure which should sound naggingly familiar to any reader of this blog. You may take a minute to place it; in the meantime, Bynum himself is unleashing flurries of fast notes in the upper register, as the same figure, with slightly varying spacing between its eight notes, is repeated again and again. By the 9:00 mark, the same figure has revealed itself as a sort of first cousin to the "slow part" of the theme from Comp. 23b - that is, bars 11-14 inclusive of that piece (the point at which the hectic pace relaxes temporarily, slowing from eight frantic notes to the bar, to just two***). It's not exactly the same phrase - but its intervallic contours are basically a direct match, and once the listening ear has located it, the flurries of notes from the cornet also make perfect retrospective sense, apparently referencing the fast section of the same theme.

Once clearly stated, in (near-)unison and with the notes evenly spaced at last (from 9:05), the phrase promptly vanishes, as the piece continues to take on a character all of its own; over the next few minutes there are teasing echoes of it from several voices, without any of them playing it as such, and in the meantime all manner of weird and wonderful sounds abound, with some really excellent playing. By 11:44, it has found its way back, once more taking over the soundscape as the various instruments stagger it amongst themselves, with numerous subtle rhythmic shifts and variations. This sets up a fierce solo by Halvorson, and from there the musical tapestry gradually unravels, the horns finally interrupting each other in spelling out broken lines which repeat to fade.

This fascinating and very creative composition is nothing so straightforward as a cover, nor is it any form of contrafact; rather it seems to have begun with a "cell" of B's music, and used it as the basis for something entirely different from it - something which also melds in another major influence. In a way, this is more of a tribute to the maestro than any number of straight-up covers could be... oh, and when you listen back to the piece again, knowing how it will develop, you can hear the guitar foreshadowing the 23b material as early as 1:45-ish. A very interesting piece; the whole album is worth your attention, if you've yet to hear it.

***

2.  Alexander Hawkins Trio, from untitled album (2015)

Here we're looking at track three, "One Tree Found", a shortish excursion for the earlier line-up of the trio, featuring Neil Charles on bass as always, but with Tom Skinner in the drum chair (he would later be replaced by Stephen Davis - this second iteration of the group cut the trio's second album; but more significantly, as regards this blog, they provided the backing for the maestro's voluminous Standards Quartet tour); a simpler conception all round than the piece discussed above, this one riffs on various aspects of the theme from Comp. 23d, almost including a direct quote from it at key points. Again, anyone familiar with New York, Fall 1974 will have little trouble recognising this - although apparently I was the first person to call that out to the composer (who confirmed it to me in an email last year).

A simpler conception, indeed, this still very much merits the listening attention of anyone reading this, and not just because of the reframed Braxwerk: Hawkins is a consistently interesting composer, to my ears (not something I can honestly say about many of his British contemporaries), and a restlessly creative player; and although the core trio is just one of many vehicles he maintains for his own musical explorations - like Bynum, he is happy to take a sideman/collaborator role as well - it does seem to bring out the best in him. Check it out! Once again, repurposing elements of B's compositions in this way seems like a more profound artistic tribute than just playing one of his pieces - though Hawkins has been known to do that, too, and I have encouraged him to consider putting out a full album of such stuff. The world always needs more BraxRep, after all...

***

It is purely coincidental that both of these pieces build on elements of tunes from one single side of vinyl, but then again - is it, really? If one plans to undertake something like this, it surely makes sense to take as the starting point something which is relatively well known and easy for listeners to recognise... which does narrow the field down a bit. Nor must that principle be limited to the rare art of restructuring, as outlined in the two cases above... When I wrote last time about Steve Lehman's imminent album, it did not escape my notice that he chose pretty well-known pieces, including not one but two from that exact same side of historic vinyl. Don't get me wrong, I am all for the idea of musicians exploring the lesser-known corners of B's vast discography, and I fervently hope that more of them will rise to that challenge in the (near) future. But at the same time, the surest way to get some of these pieces enshrined as the modern standards they (essentially) are is to keep reminding people of how accessible some of the maestro's better-known compositions always were. We will get there... assuming the human race survives at all (not exactly a given, at this critical point in time), we will get there..!

* I checked carefully: there really are no spaces between the letters and the parentheses. (Looks a bit strange, but that is what the composer wanted to call it... who are we to query that?)

** I presume it really isn't necessary to explain how and why this is obvious (...)

*** Yes, this is one of those annoying times when I could really do with being able to (read and) write musical notation, so that I could include the phrase itself, in visual form. [It's a bit embarrassing that it took me so long to realise what a feeble excuse it is, to keep having to state that I can't read or write music: it really wasn't until just over a year ago that I finally acknowledged that most other people with my level of interest would have taught themselves by now. I didn't think it was necessary, for a long time; and when at some point I began to think it probably was at least highly desirable, I was too busy with other things... what else can I say?]

Reframings (1)

 

In the wake of my wondering (aloud - so to speak) whether a fresh approach might not be needed to what I do around here, I found myself wanting to do some quicker posts, still containing some (...) analysis and contextual detail, but requiring less time, preparation and mental effort than usual. I have in mind to do a fairly brisk rundown of a couple of pieces which aren't written by B., but clearly influenced by him - pieces by younger composers in the manner of a tribute, or - I hesitate to use the word - homage*. 

- Have that in mind, yes, but this is not it: still, it's tangentially related, since it involves two projects of actual Braxwerks - repertoire** - and two pieces of news which are (in different ways) hot off the press, as it were...

1. I was very excited to learn (just this evening) that Steve Lehman - one of relatively few creative musicians whose work I make a concerted effort to follow, as it emerges - is about to drop an album entitled The Music of Anthony Braxton, at the end of February. A glance at the proposed cover art tells me right away that this involves Lehman's working rhythm section of drummer Damion Reid (bottom left) and bassist Matt Brewer (bottom right); a closer inspection was needed, to discover that the fourth player on this (live) date was tenor saxman Mark Turner - someone whose name meant nothing to me at first, admittedly. But, well, I looked him up; and if he's a figure I have not so much encountered and forgotten as simply skirted around (and quite possibly never heard at all), he has played with a lot of respected musicians, and put out plenty of stuff under his own leadership. It may well raise an eyebrow to see Turner described on the album's Bandcamp page as "one of the most influential jazz musicians of the past 30 years" (certainly we might wish to know who exactly has been influenced by him) - but that's the kind of ecstatic hype we've all seen before in promotional blurb, and we'll all see it again***. Knowing that Lehman wanted to undertake this project with him is enough of a vote of confidence for me. 

The album looks to be ever so slightly misleadingly-titled, given that its eight tracks include two originals, plus "Trinkle, Tinkle" by - come off it, you don't need me to tell you who wrote that masterpiece - in addition to five tracks of BraxRep, comprising seven of the maestro's pieces in all. But fuck it, this is no time to quibble: one of my favourite contemporary musicians is releasing a tribute to my actual favourite musician, and that most definitely qualifies as good news! Naturally, with just two tracks available to stream at present, it remains to be seen to what extent Lehman limited himself by concentrating on material from a pretty narrow period in B's vast oeuvre... but I find it hard to believe that I will end up too badly disappointed by this. In any case, I will buy it as soon as it comes out.

[I am not in any way exaggerating when I speak of making a concerted effort to follow Lehman's work, by the way. He has numerous projects on the go, and I try to keep up with all of them, as far as I know: looking at his Bandcamp, I can say at once that I own this and this and this and this and this on CD, among other past releases; and I am familiar with other albums of his besides. In this instance, at least some of the prevailing hype is remarkably close to being justified, in my opinion.]

2. I just ordered a copy of Concept Of Freedom, the experimental project jointly credited to B. and Duke Ellington, but masterminded - at least in part - by that man Roland Dahinden (much discussed in these pages over the last year or so). I have alluded to the album before, and it was conspicuously absent from my inadequate attempt to discuss the various renditions of Comp. 136 in the recorded canon; I have only heard short excerpts from it, and would not claim to understand precisely what it is or how it was conceived, but it has always looked intriguing, and really I have just been waiting for a copy to turn up from a UK-based seller at a reasonable price. That opportunity having now presented itself, I seized it, and I would hope that -if nothing else - the album proves useful in getting me a tiny bit closer to a proper analysis of Dahinden's Ensemble Montaigne (Bau 4) 2013 project, perpetually on my to-do list...

That's it! Quick in, quick out... no preparation, and relatively little in the way of distraction. I'm not saying all of my posts will be like this from now on - indeed, they won't be - but it's an idea for keeping things moving, anyway :)

* I detest using this word, since virtually everyone now seems to have adopted the pretentious pronunciation "homarzh", as if it were a French loan-word. It isn't: and for the record, anyone who wishes to pronounce it thus ought to be prepared to spell it hommage, since that is how the word is written in French. The word homage has existed separately in English for centuries - unlike words such as collage or garage or triage, all of which have simply been dragged-and-dropped from French in the modern era, and are pronounced accordingly. OK... rant over ;-)

** In the context of the blog, the term repertoire refers exclusively to ("covers" of) B's past compositions; sporadic examples of my writing about this subject can be found by skimming the titles of posts from the last couple of years.

*** No disrespect is intended to Mr Turner here. A casual look at his Wikipedia page proves that he has an extensive discography, and has worked with a lot of people over a sustained period. But I don't think it's too outrageous to suggest that if he were indeed "one of the most influential jazz musicians of the past 30 years", I wouldn't have had to look him up. Record labels and their hysterical hype... {tt}

In the spirit of Janus (Cent's 2025 manifesto)

 

Yeah, that didn't quite happen, did it? 

When I said that "three more posts... (would) feel like a rather heroic undertaking", I hadn't really considered that I might not end up posting again at all before the end of the year. Of the various things I had lined up, I knew that most of them were not going to get done in December; but I had fully intended to do another retrospective, and in the event it simply didn't get done because we were away visiting people, and I didn't really get any time to myself, and... when it came down to it, I couldn't justify making a priority of it, since hardly anyone read last year's post anyway ;-)   This sort of granular self-analysis serves some purpose for me, but is of (understandably) limited interest to practically everyone else.

Still... twenty-eight months after I resumed posting in earnest, it does feel worthwhile to ask some questions about the extent (if any) to which all this is working. I had been away for an awfully long time, more than long enough to drop out of most readers' memories - and in the interim, Blogger itself had been relegated to "still active, but only just" status; would I be able to reclaim a decent proportion of my former readership, just by persistently plugging away?

The answer to that is a resounding "No!" as it turns out. Many former readers never found their way back - one can hardly blame them - and although a few new readers have managed to stumble across the blog, somehow or other, it seems obvious that many (if not most) of the potential readers for this kind of material just don't know that we exist. My skills, such as they are, do not extend to knowing what to do about this, so... up till now I have done nothing about it whatsoever. But on the whole the page hits for the blog during 2024 have been slightly down on where they were in 2023, which may or may not mean that I am doing something wrong, but certainly don't suggest that I am getting too much right. 

Then again, I never had the slightest intention of trying to make any money out of this anyway, so it's always been the case that as long as I felt it was of some value to me, I would keep doing it. If it also proves valuable to others, however few, so much the better. [Of course it's always also been the case that it had to be good enough for the maestro, if he deigned to read it; but I think it's safe to say he doesn't, any more. That actually doesn't change things, though: it still has to be good enough for him, from my point of view.]

So much for looking back. In terms of going forward: am I just going to carry on in the same vein, changing nothing? I'm really not sure yet. It feels as of some tweaks and adjustments are called for - but, lacking any real clues as to how to make them, I may very well just carry on regardless, yes... for the most part, anyway. The glacial pace at which I proceed with long-form analysis doesn't seem to be working very well at all: it's well over a year since I first thought about examining Ensemble Montaigne (Bau 4) 2013, but that entailed gaining a greater degree of familiarity with several prior works from B's catalogue, and I am still miles away from being able to undertake a full-form analysis. In the meantime, the length between instalments is not helping me either, as my memory is (alas) not quite what it was, and new knowledge does not always get retained these days, so working at such a slow pace is counter-productive to me, as well as possibly* being maddeningly frustrating to the reader. This aspect of what I do, at any rate, must surely be revised: after all, I now have a similar problem with regard to Comp. 27, which I still want to examine properly after it was unveiled at the BBC Proms last August; at my recent rate of progress, I might be ready to look at that in detail round about 2030, if I'm lucky. That just isn't acceptable to me. I need to find a different approach.

The subject of the Promenade concert raises another question, too. It was available online for a month or so after it was broadcast, but anyone who missed it at the time will not still be able to hear it now. If I write about it, without also posting a link to a sound file, is that worth doing at all? The greater relevance of this question is to the long-delayed matter of the tape collection, which I am always going to get around to, one of these days... what value if I do, when I am not able to provide downloads for any such recordings which I do, finally, hear? Will there be any point in writing about them? If there isn't, will there be any use to my doing it in the first place..? and so on and so forth.

I could of course chew my head up with questions like this, and in the past have done exactly that, but I try not to any more. So, all I can say for the time being is that I will still carry on blogging, even if I am not yet sure to what extent I will be blogging in the same manner as before. It does, after all, continue to be of use to me, and if anyone else does derive any benefit from it... I'm glad! Despite the exposure at the Proms, we seem to be farther than ever from a world where many people take time over things requiring their detailed attention; but we don't have to be fatalistic about that. There are some people out there who might enjoy what I do here - what we do, when we do it - if they only knew of the blog's existence, so if anyone reading this has friends with an interest in creative music generally, and all things Braxtonian in particular... do please tell them :-D

* Possibly - I mean, is it? Does anyone expect anything different from me, these days..?