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?]