On the subject of corrections...

 ... this was going to be tacked briefly onto the end of the previous post; but that one turned out to be such a pain in the arse to write (not to mention very probably impossible to read) that this tiny little bit of emendata had to acquire a life of its own:

I am now halfway through the ZIM recordings on that (official?) Youtube channel, listening to one composition per day. (Most of them have continued to sound fresh and enthralling and inspirational; the one I listened to last night, not so much, but I think that says more about the mood I was in and what I was forcing myself to do at the time.)

The nit-picking thing is, though: either the tracklists on Discogs are wrong, or the one on Youtube is. (I haven't looked yet on Firehouse 12's site, or on TCF or anywhere else official.)

Discogs has separate entries for the digital download (perversely, since Discogs is primarily a site for traders and digital content is not permitted for sale on it) and for the Blu-Ray, but the tracklist in each case is identical. The twelve compositions are in ascending numerical order, starting with Comp. 402, then continuing with Comps. 408, 409, 410; then Comps. 412-16 inclusive; and finally Comps. 418-20 (the last three being the ones which were recorded during the Cafe Oto residency in London, sigh). 

However, on Youtube there are some discrepancies. The first four pieces are the same, and the timings match the ones given here. After that, things seem to get a little mixed up.

The fifth piece is named as Comp. 416, lasting 47.20 - which is indeed the correct duration of that piece, in principle, though the running order has got disrupted at this point. (Comp. 416 is the ninth piece on the other tracklist.)

The sixth piece is named as Comp. 411. The sharp-eyed reader will note that this opus number is conspicuous by its absence from the listings on Discogs. The duration of this piece is 57.58, which is to say, the timing elsewhere attributed to Comp. 412 (which is the fifth piece on the other tracklist).

The seventh piece is listed as Comp. 412 and lasts 51.10, the timing elsewhere attributed to Comp. 413 (which is the sixth piece on the other tracklist). Confused yet..?

Track eight on Youtube is Comp. 414 (51.40) and track nine is Comp. 415 (49.17), which are listed elsewhere as being tracks 7 and 8 respectively, but with those same durations: so at this point it's again just the running order which is messed up.

The last three tracks on Youtube are back in synch with the other tracklist(s). 

Youtube does not list Comp. 413 at all, but does list Comp. 411 as noted above.

Gonna stick my neck out here and say that it's the Youtube listing which is wrong. This is probably not the biggest problem in the world right now.

Just thought it was worth flagging up, having noticed it. (And in the writing, it was long enough in the end that I'm glad I gave this trivial little piece of pedantry a post of its very own...)

Partial assembly

 

Spoiler alert: I'm not going to make any very confident declarations following my listening to the unauthorised release Live at the Rainbow Gallery '79 (and just for the record, when I say listening to the release, I mean playing the individual files on Youtube; I don't own the CD (but see below, at the end of this post)). However, I did hear all of it - albeit just over a week ago, and while doing other things - and I do have some more half-cooked conclusions to present... continuing on from where I left off. 

First, then: the set-list is (almost) precisely as given by Discogs user "senorton". Which is to say: the opening piece is an extended-but-incomplete reading of the Ray Noble standard "Cherokee"; and the remainder of the set consists, very simply, of Comps. 23d, 23e and 40f. I say "almost" precisely: perhaps senorton was writing from memory, but he is wrong when he says that "(the) composed music is connected, in typical fashion, by free improvisation". It isn't. Whatever the circumstances were regarding this performance - or series of performances (painter David Scher, otherwise known as Discogs user "fetidwheeze", says that his work was exhibited at the gallery "during Braxton's residency" - though he doesn't say how many days or nights that comprised) - it doesn't proceed in the usual mid-seventies manner. Friendly experiencer senorton is probably just trying to account for why the label wrongly lists the four pieces as "Free Jazz Improv. One", etc - and his explanation is perfectly plausible in principle, but it doesn't match up with the actual recording. Track one is just "Cherokee" - and as mentioned above, for whatever reason, this part of the broadcast was incomplete, fading out before the conclusion of the trombone solo. Track two is Comp. 23d, which begins "cold" rather than emerging from any sort of transition phase; actually this one was quite surprising for me when I first listened to it, as I had figured beforehand that surely there would be a medley of some sorts here: the band couldn't possibly just have played this one number for almost half an hour..? -but no, that is indeed precisely what happens, and after 28 minutes, the piece finishes and we get some polite audience applause. No transitioning, and for that matter no radio announcer (this was supposedly sourced from a radio broadcast, don't forget - indeed it looks as if the date '79 in the album title refers not to the date of performance, but to the eventual broadcast, rather perversely). Track three is Comp. 23e, which is preceded by a little bit of tuning up, but that is not traditionally regarded as improvising... again, the piece fades out in mid-solo (this time a piano solo), but on this occasion it may just have been a question of the (ahem) "recording engineer" having to flip or change a tape, as Track four picks up shortly after Track three leaves off, still in mid-piano solo, and we just carry right on until we get some more applause, at around 6.15. This isn't a link phase though, it's just crappy indexing; there are then a few "false starts" before Comp. 40f begins just before the 7.00 mark, and this is where Track four should really begin, properly speaking. Fifteen minutes of that takes us up to the end, and some more applause. 

- So I suppose the only way senorton could have thought that the primary territores are linked by free improvisation, other than simply misremembering, is if he played just the beginning of each track before writing his notes; Track four beginning as it does in medias res could fool the hasty listener into thinking that. But although these are all pretty lengthy workouts - allowing for some extra solo time, given the presence of a pianist - I didn't hear any suggestion of different pieces being interpreted or even quoted, and like I say, Comp. 23d has a clear beginning and end, despite lasting a full 28 mins. If Comp. 23e seems to drift away into places new in its second half, that in itself is not at all unusual - indeed it is pretty much the way this piece was written*- and again, it comes to an end to allow for some applause. Comp. 40f, again, concludes by sounding quite clearly like itself, although when played in concert this piece usually segued into something else. But this was apparently not a normal Braxton concert performance, whatever else it was, and however extended the readings may have been. A Braxton concert beginning with a standard? WTAF?! Hmmm. 

That's that for the programme. Any thoughts on the actual music? "Cherokee" is an interesting choice because it does, indeed, bring to mind Charlie Parker for many people - senorton probably went a bit too far with his assumptions about what its inclusion here might mean; but I was also wrong when I said previously that Parker was just one of many musicians to play it - or rather, I was incorrect in implying that it's really no more associated with Parker than with numerous other (bop-era) jazz musicians. It may have called to mind Clifford Brown for me, yes, but that says more about my self-educated approach to jazz appreciation than anything else. Once I looked into it, I found (actually rediscovered**) that Parker is in fact strongly associated with this tune for a reason: it was his obsessive woodshedding on this particular piece (in all twelve keys) that eventually allowed him to play "the music (he'd) been hearing", by abstracting the higher intervals of the chords and transforming them into a melody line. This may (or may not) have led to the "birth of be-bop"... but it does certainly mean that for some people, the association between Parker and "Cherokee" is so deeply-rooted that they even misremember him as having co-written it. (As I said before, he was too young for that even to have been a realistic possibility***.) Our friend senorton somewhat speciously cites this as evidence for his own identification of the trombonist on the Braxton bootleg as George Lewis: it is true that both of the duo sets B. laid down with Lewis in 1976 include Parker tunes, but those are almost tossed off as "extras", whereas this is both the opening number (still can't quite get my head round that) and a much fuller reading than either of those others. 

Now, to senorton's description of "a Charlie Parker solo played by the horns in unison". Braxton and the 'bone man - we won't definitively call him Lewis just yet - do certainly play a horn line together, starting at around 0.55 on Track one. But what is it? Parker's first, most famous, rendition of "Cherokee" on record is the one probably waxed in 1942 (or possibly '41) - various sources date it to '43, but I'm happy to rule that out, for the simple reason that that would place it smack bang in the middle of the notorious recording ban - with two rather obscure sidemen (who are quite possibly only remembered now in the context of this recording... I wouldn't know). This is apparently revered by some as being the perfect bebop solo (despite the fact that bebop didn't really exist yet at this point... but who's counting?) - and it doesn't sound to me as if B. and his compadre are playing that. [I thought I remembered there being a version of "Cherokee" included on Parker's recordings either for Dial or Savoy - but I may be just remembering the fact that "Ko-Ko" - Parker's contrafact based on Noble's changes - was recorded in one of those sessions. The Dial masters do include a private recording of "Cherokee" from 1947, apparently - that would be a pretty recondite reference and for all I know, it may not even have been in general circulation at the time Braxton was playing this gig.] It almost sounds to me more like an Eric Dolphy solo than one of Parker's - I actually went away and checked that they aren't quoting "Out There", but they're not - but whatever it is, it's clearly a rehearsed line, successfully pulled off, and definitely a crowd-pleaser: some claps can be heard over the music, around 1.44 when the brassman lays out and B. takes over for his alto solo.

When I said previously that I didn't make any attempt at first to identify the players because I couldn't hear the bass, that isn't really true. But it sort of is: some of the bass can be heard fairly clearly, even in a compressed rip, via an online video played on cruddy "speakers" on a device which can't even properly be called a laptop. The thing is, you can only hear some of it, and that turned out not to be enough for me to feel confident about saying that this is or isn't Dave Holland; or, for that matter, that this is or isn't Barry Altschul. The drums sound so thrash-n-bash on this rough and ready (audience?) recording that it could almost be anybody; half the time, all you really hear is lots of cymbals. As for the bass, it's not until around the 6.00 mark, when B's solo finishes and the piano solo begins, that you actually get to hear all of what the bassist is playing. The easy confidence and assuredness at this accelerated tempo could well indicate Holland; but then, it could be a number of other players too, and whoever Braxton hired for a gig was not exactly going to be a slouch. I wasn't about to drive myself mad with this... and as undesirable as it is in principle to write about music one has only heard while doing something else (even if that wasn't something which required much brain power), this ropey half-baked excuse for a bootleg simply didn't seem to merit a really close and focused listen, even if I had the time for that at present (which I don't, really). The "album" was obviously slung together very cheaply, using a recording of dubious provenance and questionable quality, with little or no attempt to verify any of the information (or even to present it consistently: after all, if the listed personnel are correct, it definitely wasn't recorded in 1979... which is kinda where we came in). We don't know if this was the whole concert (well, it wasn't - there are fadeouts as already stated above), or that the order in which the pieces are presented on the CD is the same order in which they were played on the date - only that Comp. 40f definitely followed Comp. 23e. As for the feeble cop-out of a "track listing", we can safely assume that no attempt whatsoever was going to be made to identify the material correctly - easy though that turned out to be - since the people who released this weren't about to approach anyone remotely close to B., as they would hardly have wished to advertise the fact that they were putting this out without his knowledge or permission.

I'd say it is Lewis on trombone; but then realistically, who else would it be? - and I couldn't begin to identify the piano player, I'm more or less hopeless at that sort of thing; but as previously noted, Abrams is a pretty safe bet for anything recorded around this time. [I did previously float the possibility that if this is 1976, it might just as well be Anthony Davis; but there is a big practical difference between getting someone to sit in for a performance in NYC when they are there anyway, along with just about everyone else, and dragging the same person all the way out to Minneapolis. Then again, whoever it was, they weren't some random local hire: this will be someone who has played B's music before, and has therefore had to travel to the gig along with the rest of the group.]

What I will say, though, is that 1976 is almost certainly the correct year. And that's simply because of the material: even before I had heard a note of this recording, I reckoned that if the tracklist had been correctly identified by senorton (which it had), he was wrong about the year being 1979. There is no way (he says, with foolhardy assertiveness) that Comps. 23d and 23e are together on a set-list once Holland and Altschul have left the band; so, no later than 1976. Earlier, even? No, because there is no mention anywhere (to my knowledge) of Lewis being in the band before 1976; and although Comp. 40f sort of sounds as if it might have been written with Kenny Wheeler in mind (as I have noted before, years ago), I am not aware of any recording of this piece featuring Wheeler, nor any set-list prior to 1976 which includes it; it does appear to have made its debut at the same time as Lewis joined the band. So: no earlier than 1976, because of the closing number; no later, because of the other Braxton originals. Actually, now that I come to think of it: given that Comp. 23e is among other things a feature for Holland's impressive arco technique, that inclusion alone is basically enough for us to be able to say this is him. The drummer may or may not be Altschul; other drummers were available, to coin a phrase... and the line-up of the quartet was not, after all, immutable. But yeah, I'll say 1976 for sure. I think we can trust the painter's memory on this one ;-)

[O...kay. All that faffing around, just for the same conclusions I'd reached before I even listened to the recording? - and a post which is probably unreadable?! But fuck it, that's just how I roll sometimes...]

For the numerous reasons outlined already, I would absolutely not buy this CD new - and the fact that some retailers appear to be charging a "normal album" price for it is disgraceful. But I may buy it second-hand one of these days: it can be picked up cheaply like that, and the bootleg operation that put it out won't profit from such a transaction. I didn't go into any of this because (ironically) it wasn't strictly relevant... but some of the playing here, especially from the leader, is terrific; hell, it's a Braxton performance, how bad is it really likely to be? It's definitely non-essential, but I can probably be persuaded that it's worth having.

* This is a lazy assumption, relying on memory - and ignoring the fact that I have the composition notes downstairs. This is not yet the time to get those out, though. If I can sustain this and really get going again, they will be consulted regularly...

** When I first got into jazz, more than twenty years ago, none of my friends at the time really listened to it, so I relied on my own research. I read a number of books on jazz history in the first year I was collecting the music and trying to learn how to listen to it; at least one of those is bound to have included the story of how Bird first made his big breakthrough after woodshedding the fuck out of "Cherokee". In fact the more I think that one over, the more it starts to come back to me. I had just forgotten all about it.

*** As I have mentioned before, "Cherokee" was published in 1938; Parker was 18 at the time. Depending on whose word you take for it, he was 21 or 22 (or 23 - except he wasn't 23, because as noted above, that trio recording was clearly not recorded in the middle of a recording ban) when he first recorded a noteworthy version of the tune. The fact that his playing it to death ultimately (was one of the things which) led to a sea-change in jazz does not, in fact, retroactively confer upon him the status of co-writer. [Actually, Noble originally composed the song as the first of five movements in his (cough) "Indian Suite" - it's just that this is the only one which has "stuck". (Contemporary awareness of/ sensitivity towards cultural appropriation suggests that the overall suite is not likely to get revived any time soon.)]

Steady diet

It's been a long time, but I've been on a daily diet of Braxton for over a week now, and I certainly do feel better for it :-D

Indeed, the only downside to this - as I discovered this evening - is that if other things get in the way and delay my dose, I can get pretty cranky and short. I reckon it's manageable though... and besides, the benefits definitely outweigh the drawbacks.

As mentioned in previous (recent) posts, I'm mixing it up, listening to very new material and older stuff, juxtaposed. There is nothing schematic about this. As I said last time out, I've only just discovered the ZIM stuff on Youtube and am gradually working my way through those, but that's not all. I picked up a couple of real bargains just recently - albeit albums I already had in "rip" form, just not as official releases - and over the last week I have acquired a couple more: the duo sets with Ted Reichman (which again I already had as a CD-R, even if I hadn't played it in a decade), and with Gino Robair. The latter is one which I have never had in my collection, in any form, until today: it's not especially easy to get hold of, and I count myself quite lucky to have snapped up a very good used CD copy for what is really a pretty reasonable price.

I recall saying before - and probably more than once, though right now I can't remember exactly when, so I'm not going to try and link back to it at this point - that Robair is an improviser whom I consider to be a natural playing partner for B. Everything about his approach to music just seemed to me (back in the day) to be ideally suited to the maestro - and now that I'm actually filling my ears with this stuff, I'm not about to change my mind. Playful, restless, continuously curious and searching and inventive, Robair must surely have felt himself to be in the presence of a kindred spirit the first time they met. I don't know exactly when that was - and the gaping void that the removal of Restructures has left in the internet is once more a source of frustration here - but I do realise that I probably misunderstood something, before. This superb album of questing duets dates from 1987. Jump or Die, the collaborative project between Splatter Trio (with Robair) and Debris, was recorded seven years later, but I think I may have assumed previously (?) that the duo album only came afterwards. Or did I? If so, clearly I didn't check properly, but in any case, maybe I am just misremembering it now. 

I hadn't paid attention to this when acquiring the two CDs, but there is a considerable overlap* with the materials: both feature interpretations of Comps. 86 and 136. I'm still some way away from being closely-enough attuned to essay a comparison between the respective treatments on the two sets, so for now I am just going to note it in passing... in any case, this fantastic album with Robair does not just include B's music: there are two shortish pieces credited to the percussionist and three (presumably freely-improvised) pieces credited to both men, as well as three Braxton-composed numbers**. One of the three joint-credits, titled "Frictious Singularity" (which, amazingly, did not appear on the original vinyl LP), elicits some really astonishing playing from both musicians. I am truly delighted to be able to enjoy this album at long last, and will definitely return to it in the near future.

***

When I said recently that I had picked up the Willisau (1991) Studio 2xCD for less than six pounds, I wasn't lying; but I didn't realise that it was a strictly-limited opportunity. This was on eBay, from a major UK seller which specialises in used media, but which also sells new items - and which apparently had a limited overstock of this release. I think it's still listed as available there, but it's gone up by a few pounds now... still, it is currently much cheaper (anywhere you shop, I think - at least online) than it was eighteen months ago. Anyone who doesn't have it already... needs it in their collection. Simple as that.

***

I am only three pieces into the ZIM project, which is to say one quarter of the way through; but as I said last time, I find these pieces quite remarkably beautiful, and very definitely fresh. It's not so much the sound-palette which is different to my ears - I have highly unconventional tastes in music and have listened to a lot of free improv, so "unusual" and varied sounds are pretty much normal for me - although admittedly the prevalence of harp on these pieces is a bit of a change from most (not all) of B's previous work; no, the actual musical strategies just feel distinctively different from pretty much anything I have heard from him (or anyone else) before. Once again, it is extraordinarily difficult to try and put this into words - so much so that I'm not even going to attempt it (yet). There are sections of some of the GTM performances which may momentarily sound and feel like this material - but of course GTM always first and foremost sounds like itself. There really is something powerfully innovative about this stuff... I know nothing about it at all, and perhaps for the time being it's better that way. In any case, I'm pressing on with it, even as I continue to mine the back catalogue...

* There's overlap going on in several areas of my daily life at the moment. As regards my musical listening, it's worth noting that the duo album with Reichman also includes Comp. 168, which is collaged into Kobe Van Cauwenberghe's septet reading of Comp. 255...

** That is, the Reichman set definitely includes Comp. 136. The situation as regards the album with Robair is less clear: the master-record for this release on Discogs - relating to the original vinyl on Rastascan - lists Track 3 as being Comp. 134 (+96), whereas the CD entry - and the packaging for the actual Music & Arts CD now in my possession - lists Track 6 as being Comp. 136 (+96). (Actually the CD reissue has a totally different running-order: the two extra cuts are not simply tacked on the end as they usually would be. Indeed the programme opens with a piece new to this reissue. Hmmm.)

The new and beautiful

 

Something that (almost) everybody knows about B's music is how much of it there is. He has never stopped working, developing, growing... and never stops releasing recordings either, though some years are more fecund with these than others. But the point is that someone with the urge to check out the maestro's music from a standing start, at this point, can find enough material to keep him/ her/ them busy for years without even straying into the 21st century; extend that to include, say, all three (four) species of GTM, and that would keep the interested and careful listener busy for a long time. In my own case, we're talking about renewing a consuming interest; even then, I have enough recordings - both official releases and otherwise - to keep me consumed for a very long time to come without, say, needing to catch up on the most recent developments.

However, that's not where I'm at. At a time when it finally feels appropriate to be listening to B. on a near-daily basis again, I'm taking a holistic approach and will be trying to hear as much new stuff as I can, even while I rediscover older and previously-explored territories...

I mentioned a few days ago that I'd just listened to the Other Minds Duet recording of Comp. 429 with James Fei (and some software): that's pretty much as new as it gets (in terms of the release, very new indeed, given that it was technically out until the day after I heard it; in terms of the music, you're still only talking about an event which took place last year). Then, last night, I discovered the existence of Belgian guitarist Kobe Van Cauwenberghe and his Ghost Trance Septet, intitally via a super-succinct video teaser, and then in more detail when I played the first piece from the band's album, via bandcamp: this is a 23-minute reading of Comp. 255 (+ 34 + 40f + 168), and it really is fantastic, bursting with life - absolutely full to the brim (despite its relative brevity) with energy and inspired creativity and careful attention to the materials. The album came out a few months ago on double cd or double vinyl and believe me, I shall be ordering a copy of it from the label (el NEGOCITO [sic]) in the near future. Knowing that young musicians around the world are organising projects of this calibre is incredibly uplifting (at a time when so little going on in the world seems to be anywhere near fitting such a description). I can hardly wait to hear all four pieces; and in the meantime, I shall be trying to hear the leader's solo recording, 2020's Ghost Trance Solos (on a label called all that dust [sic again, arf arf]). This guy must, by the look of it, be a real visionary.

... and of course I mentioned last year that I had acquired the marvellous Quartet (New Haven) 2014 on Firehouse 12 (mentioned it, and floated the idea of writing about it - only apparently I just wasn't ready to do it at that point... which will have come as a surprise to precisely nobody)... not to mention that Thumbscrew CD, which I really, really will write about one day soon (a promise which anyone reading this may now take a little more seriously, following the activity of the last week)...

One thing I haven't dipped into at all, up till now, is the ZIM stuff. With this project, I have to admit to some outright avoidance: they do say that one must never have any regrets, and as regards many of the regrets which I could have regarding this blog and all the rest of it, I have been able to let much of those go. On the other hand, I may never entirely be able to let go of the fact that B. brought his ZIM sextet over to the UK for a mini-residency, and that I didn't even find out it about until well after the event (admittedly they played in London - inevitably - and I haven't lived there since 2003; still, had I known about it in advance, even with all the stuff that was going on in my life, I would definitely have made an effort to attend). [It's actually not even the only performance the maestro has given over here since I've last had any direct contact with him; but this, above all, is the event which I would have prioritised.]

So, although I have made periodic half-hearted searches for ZIM material online, and have kept half an eye out for official releases of the same, I had not heard any of this stuff at all - not a single note of it - before tonight. I don't know how long it has been available on Youtube..? But it's only the other day I came across what appears to be some sort of official Braxton channel there - it's where I heard the duet with Fei - and only tonight did I realise that the whole of 12 Comp (ZIM) 2017 is available on the same channel. So... I finally gave in and listened to Comp. 402.

This really is incredible stuff, and despite containing a very lengthy sax performance by the leader (which is pretty amazing in itself, but what else would one expect?), the overall feel of the music is quite unlike anything else I've ever heard. It's... very hard to know what to say about it, other than: it's new and it's fucking beautiful. I can't go back in time, to witness the London performances in real life; and B. may very well never take this project out on the road again. But I can now immerse myself in the music, at least: all twelve pieces are on the channel, and I will work my way gradually through them. (I didn't even know about the release itself until very recently, partly 'cos it only came out last year, partly because although I do search periodically for new Braxton albums online, I only tend to search for CDs and vinyl, whereas this monster was only released on Blu Ray. I don't own a player for this format, never have, and in all honesty I can't say I've ever felt the need for one... until now!! It's not a top priority, but I will need to buy the disc sooner rather than later I suppose - these things don't tend to be available forever - even if I don't immediately get hold of the hardware on which to play it..!)

As I said in passing the other night, not all the newer material necessarily sounds that new, regardless of its quality - and that is particularly going to be the case for someone like me, who already has hundreds and hundreds of listening hours clocked up. But this experience tonight really did sound new, and it really is profoundly inspiring to know that, at an age when most people have long since stopped breaking new ground even if they have not lapsed into outright retirement, Maestro Braxton is still forging ahead, ever restless, ever the student as well as the master. At a time when the very fate of the world really does seem to be in the balance, what an example he sets for us.

***

I did listen to the whole Rainbow Gallery thing in the end, not that anyone is wondering..! I can't pretend to have drawn many definitive conclusions, but I will post again with my thoughts about it, over the next few days (time permitting: one would scarcely know it from all this blather, but I am actually pretty busy at the moment)...

While I remember...

 ... and while the impetus to keep posting is there, let's just establish something here. Yes, I'm writing in a near-vacuum here (and doubtless have only myself to blame for that) - although a handful of old friends have never completely forgotten me *, and some posts may still get seen from time to time by other people (or at least by bots, ahem) - but I am also writing on a subject which almost defines the epithet "minority-interest"... just to underline this point, I recently found (by accident) a video online of a solo 'cello performance of a George Lewis piece by Mariel Roberts... the sheer virtuosity on display, to say nothing of the intense focus and dedication, left me powerfully and deeply impressed. But I was quite dismayed to see that the video had been viewed less than 1500 times in four years, had only 30+ likes and had attracted precisely one comment, before I got to it. This on a platform where some pop music videos garner hundreds of millions of views... we live in a terribly shallow world, where the majority of people seem to think that reality TV and pre-cooked brainless entertainment is not only somehow "enough", but is all that is available to them, and further still, all that they could ever need or desire.

Many people have observed before now that the more talent, vision and dedication it takes to produce a work of art, the less chance it has of attracting any significant audience. Obviously this has been the case for decades with jazz, never mind the various forms of creative music which have grown out of jazz-infused soil; Frank Zappa referred to jazz as "the music of unemployment", and he wasn't so much being dismissive as just cynically summing up the harsh reality imposed on working musicians by a desperately-superficial music business. 

But...

... all is not quite lost, and this is heartening. For example, I can point to this ** or to this as evidence of musicians and educators making serious efforts to unpack B's music and share their love of it, and foster a similar love in others; just this evening, I discovered the existence of this, via a brief online teaser; over the last year or so, I have allowed myself to get pretty out of touch with recent developments in creative music, and had never heard of bandleader Kobe Van Cauwenberghe - indeed of the seven musicians in that group, I have only knowingly come across one before (Teun Verbruggen) - but this sounds absolutely fantastic, and if B. is aware of this recording, he must surely be absolutely delighted with it. [I then discovered that the leader had previously released this, which must surely be an extraordinary undertaking... needless to say, I shall be making a serious effort to get hold of some of this young guitarist's stuff.]

The world is in a parlous state for sure, nor has our species taken its stewardship at all seriously; and if the earth does eventually recover by casting us off entirely, we can hardly complain too much. But I feel a lot better now than I did a few years ago, whatever the reason(s); and when I see things like the projects linked above, it reassures me that the human race is not such a shitty gang to belong to, after all. There is still hope (as B. himself is fond of saying). 

As regards this guy's amazing, demanding, empowering music, I may have fucked up my own opportunity to make this blog all that it could possibly have been, and to take part in the maestro's journey (with my performance-anxiety issues, I was always destined to sabotage that in some way, it couldn't be helped); but others are more than making up for my shortcomings. That's the most important thing to remember in all this. I still have no idea what Jason G. was talking about - what led him to sever ties with B. and take down his own work - but it doesn't seem to be the case that B. has been disowned by the creative music community in general - far from it. My own interest has been well and truly renewed, and perhaps I can start making up for (some of my) lost time...

* Kai, hi again! Thanks for your recent comment(s). Hope this finds you well - until such time as I figure out how to comment on my own blog (!), this will have to do... thanks for the information you passed on, and the links, which I will be checking out in due course...

** Brian Krock and I exchanged emails briefly, after I commented on his video. And then he realised what a flake I was, and that was the end of that (at least I assume that's what happened... and if so I can't really blame him). Who knows, if I revive my work here I may be able to get him to start talking to me again ;-)

Puzzle pieces

 

Who am I kidding, right? After a number of years of almost total inactivity, I post something meandering (eventually) asking a question of any imaginary readers who might be out there, and I proceed on the basis that someone might actually attempt to answer it within a few days. Of course, anybody who has kept even half an eye on the way things have unfolded here in recent years would fully expect that just because I randomly posted something, that doesn't mean anything else will follow it up any time soon.

However, this time I may actually be getting myself ready to kick things off again, since the timing just seems to be right for it... I have started pulling my entire Braxton collection together in earnest, and whatever else happens, I am expecting to spend a lot of time in the foreseeable future listening to it. Precisely where that takes me, remains to be seen...

... and even if I posted here twice a week, who would even see it? There has (evidently) never been a worse time to recommence writing this sort of blog. That's OK, though... one thing I learned back in the "good old days" was how to do this work purely for myself (even as I was also doing it for other people, if that makes sense). I am perfectly capable of writing it as if others are reading it, even if they aren't. It will serve a purpose anyway :-D

***

So the question was whether anyone had any organised thoughts and / or conclusions about the unofficial Braxton release Live at the Rainbow Gallery '79. I wrote that post the other day without having a heard a note of it - indeed I deliberately refrained from even looking for it online, until such time as I had got down what I wanted to say in the first instance. Having done that, I did then have a look on the 'net for it, and started listening to the first piece. There were two fundamental questions which previous commentators had left seemingly undecided: firstly, that of the year and personnel; and more simply, the identity of the first piece. I figured that the second question should be very easy to answer, and the first not that hard either: with regard to the standard which opens the broadcast, one guy identified it as "Cherokee" and another as "Marshmallow" (an understandable confusion in principle, since the two compositions share a basic rhythm and tempo, and indeed occupy a very similar tessitura generally); as to the year and personnel, I reckoned that if by now I can't identify Dave Holland on this material then it doesn't say much for the state of my ears.

Anyway: it's definitely "Cherokee" (the guy who called it as "Marshmallow" presumably just doesn't know the earlier tune, which is extremely easy to identify). As I discussed last time, it's incorrect to co-credit Charlie Parker with this tune, but he is kind of associated with it (not just him, of course; I personally thought of Clifford Brown straight away, not Parker, in connection with versions of this standard), and the same commentator who identified it on Discogs pointed out that Braxton and his trombonist (very probably Lewis) play the Parker solo simultaneously. - If that is, indeed, the Parker solo... which I haven't established yet. If I'm honest, I found the sound of this recording less than fabulous, so much so that it gave little or no chance to answer the other question quickly, because I couldn't hear the bass at all. (I still think this would be the easiest way to identify the '76 band for sure.) After a few minutes of half-listening to this while doing something or other - I most definitely wasn't giving it anything like my full attention - I put it on hold, and didn't quite get round to going back to it. Some other time for that, then...

[Again, I mentioned in my previous post that if the same commentator correctly identified the three Braxton compositions - 23d, 23e, 40f - then it's pretty massively unlikely to be the '79 band, with or without a guest pianist; playing one of those might make sense, but a whole set of that earlier stuff, when the '78-'79 quartets were all about the 69 series..? I don't buy it. If those are the primary territories, this is very likely to have been recorded no later than 1976; and besides, another Discogs commentator has come forward as the painter whose work was on show in the Rainbow Gallery during (what he describes as) B's residency there, and he assures us it was indeed 1976. In which case, we can pretty safely assume it is Lewis, Holland, and Altschul in the quartet (and to be fair it does sound more like Lewis than Anderson on trombone, I heard enough to say that much at least); as for the pianist, it's always a safe bet to say it was "probably" Abrams, but if it was '76, it could also feasibly be Anthony Davis, couldn't it? Let's face it, we can't trust the label on this, and no-one else seems quite sure. One of these days I will listen to the whole thing - and at that point I may be able to make some more useful observations. I shan't, however, be buying it.]

***

One thing I have listened to - just tonight indeed - is the brand new release (technically it's not even out yet, though clearly it is already available in digital format) Duet (Other Minds) 2021, with James Fei: this is actually due for release tomorrow, September 2nd, on the Other Minds label - and presents a performance which (apparently) took place last year, during the Other Minds Festival 25. The single territory is Composition 429 (!), which - according to another website - 'is the first piece using a new writing method that Braxton calls “Lorraine (...) a music system that governs the ‘sonic winds’ of breath.” '

This really is a rewarding listen, even if I for one would be happy just to listen to the two players, without the vaguely-distracting electronics which accompanies them (this is not Diamond Curtain Wall music, but I presume it's a similar type of interactive computer software being used)... for anyone who's heard even half as much of B's playing as I have, there may not be a whole lot of surprises on offer, but when the quality of musicianship and the depth of interplay is this good, who the hell cares? I am always very reluctant to pay for digital downloads, but I shall definitely be interested in buying a CD copy in the near future.

***

Beleieve it or not, I could go on - but I shan't, or not yet at least. For now, hello to anyone who is reading this; in particular, my warmest wishes go out to McClintic Sphere and his family.

I'll be posting again soon. This time for real, as they say ;-)

A question... of sorts

 Much to my surprise, it seems that a small handful of people still read anything I post on here - what little that currently is, in other words. This despite a) my continuing overwhelming inactivity, b) my failure to respond to comments as I used to (there is a reason for that - see below*), and c) the difficulty in locating Blogger material via a web-search these days.

To anyone who is still checking in: thank you for your (seemingly-infinite) patience ;-)

Now...

... as any Braxtonhead must know by now, an unofficial bootleg CD emerged a few years back on the Cypriot label Hi Hat. This is credited solely to AB and bears the title Live At The Rainbow Gallery '79; it claims to be taken from a radio broadcast from "the end of the decade", implying - sort of - that the 1979 date refers to the year of the broadcast, not necessarily the date of the actual performance. It gives the personnel as being Lewis, Holland and Altschul plus Muhal Richard Abrams, which makes it massively unlikely that it was recorded any later than 1976; but of course, that's assuming the personnel are credited correctly, which perhaps we had better not assume at all (hence my caveat "sort of" in the previous sentence: given the inherently-dubious nature of the release, it's probably best not to assume anything which we can't actually verify).

So, let's posit for the sake of argument that at least the venue is correct, and that the broadcast presents a performance at the Rainbow Gallery (in Minneapolis, apparently; even more confusingly, the entry for this item on Discogs adds the note "...in September 1987.(?)" - which would of course indicate that the performance was broadcast at least seven years before it actually took place! - where this unhelpful note originates (i.e. on the CD liners or with Discogs' members) is unclear). A pretty recent comment (from user "fetidwheeze") reads: "I had a painting exhibition during Braxton's residency at Rainbow Gallery and can assure you that the date was 1976... The group was there for several nights."

-This, in turn, appears to be at least partly in response to an earlier (and much longer) comment by user "senorton", which provides some quite detailed info, but which suggests that the "date" (?/?/79) is correct and the personnel wrong, rather than the other way around, as most people had previously assumed. The commentator supposes then that the line-up actually comprises John Lindberg and Thurman Barker, as per the 1979 working quartet, but with Lewis in for Ray Anderson - senorton reckons this sounds more like Lewis (but is confident it's not Altschul on drums) - and "Muhal Richard Abrams is definitely the likely choice for the pianist."

I have no intention of buying this illegal release myself - never did - and haven't yet heard it. What I'm interested to know, therefore, is whether anyone who might be reading this has listened to the performance, and if so what conclusions were drawn, if any? (My curiosity is however sufficiently piqued at this point that one way or another, I will probably go looking for an online audio rip and see what I can deduce about it... so if anyone does want to beat me to the punch and share their thoughts on this little mystery, they are encouraged to do so in the next few days..!)

[senorton provides a tracklist, too, having stated in passing that "the titles are ludicrous for a Braxton date"; that is not actually strictly true  - the release lists the four pieces just as "Free Jazz Improv. 1-4", which is not completely implausible, though highly unlikely to be accurate for either the '76 working group or its '79 counterpart - but in any case he reckons that he can name all four pieces: the last three are given by him as Comps. 23d, 23e and 40f, while he lists the first as being "Cherokee" (but incorrectly gives Charlie Parker a co-credit for it, and in turn uses that as evidence of this being Lewis playing, since the two duo sets from 1976 with Lewis both include (brief) Parker covers... "Cherokee" was published in 1938, at which time Parker would have been around 18 years old; he is credited with the contrafact "KoKo", based on the "Cherokee" changes, and did play the earlier song, but he most certainly didn't co-write it. Does this undermine our commentator's credentials..?). For what it's worth, a later comment by user "SSRI_Guy" says instead that the first number is "Marshmallow" by Warne Marsh. - Regardless of which number it actually was that opened the broadcast, it was evidently a standard; but the rest of the set, if senorton is right about it, would be a very strange tracklist indeed for 1979. I'm already angling towards 1976, myself...]

***

If anyone doesn't yet have the reissued (remastered) Willisau (1991) Studio 2xCD on hatOLOGY... now is an excellent time to snap it up, since - unlike most commodities - its price seems to have fallen dramatically. A year or so ago you would have been lucky to find this for sale for less than twenty pounds (GBP; I can't vouch for what it would have cost in euros or dollars), but I just picked it up for five-and-a-half quid, brand new and still factory-sealed. Nobody reading this will need to be told what an essential release this was/is. The question is... where is the Live equivalent? Liner notes say it was slated for release in 2019, but we know that never materialised...

* One of the frustrations which has kept me away from here lately is the fact that I currently rely on a device - I can't really call it a laptop - which my wife originally bought, hence it "thinks" by default that I am her. Even when signed into my own email, if I load Blogger it tries to log me in as my wife - and the last time I tried to reply to a comment, I gave up because even though I had (eventually) succeeded in logging into the site / the blog as myself, when I went to the comments it reverted back to my wife's account. - To the gracious person who told me recently about the need to celebrate living musicians - my thoughts exactly - and who recommended one of Roscoe Mitchell's recent groups, I had tried to respond as follows: Yes indeed, we absolutely do... I haven't heard this particular small group of Mitchell's (love Tomeka Reid) and will try to hunt down some recordings. Thanks for the tip :-D   (NB: I didn't yet manage to find any recordings by that group. I do really like Tomeka Reid - especially her first album as a leader. I love Roscoe Mitchell)